


Sirens M.C

by Milliadoc_Brandybuck



Series: Sirens M.C [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: AU, All Female Motorcycle Club, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Perspective, Anarchy, Asian-American Character, California, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Discrimination, Cesarean Section, Character Death, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Gang Violence, Harley Davidson - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Italian-American Character, MC - Freeform, Misgendering, Motorcycle club, Native American Character(s), Original Character(s), Representation, Sirens, Sons Of Anarchy - Freeform, Teenage Pregnancy, alternative universe, canonical racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 68,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21718000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milliadoc_Brandybuck/pseuds/Milliadoc_Brandybuck
Summary: Charming have the Sons of Anarchy but two counties over Corona have an all female motorcycle club who are every bit as violent and fucked up. Enter the Sirens MC.(If anyone is interested the 'theme' for Sirens MC if it were a show would be 'Bury My Bones' by Whiskey Myers. Each 'episode' has a soundtrack that I listen to whilst writing and I'll put in the footnotes)**Due to the nature of the original show there may be comments or statements made by characters or in descriptions that may be deemed offensive. Please do not take them as such, I do not mean them in such a way, I'm just following the influence of Sons of Anarchy.Peace <3 Spread love not germs**
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Original Character(s), Happy Lowman/Original Female Character(s), Jax Teller & Original Female Character(s), Juice Ortiz/Original Female Character(s), Opie Winston/Original Female Character(s), Tig Trager/Original Female Character(s), Tig Trager/Venus Van Dam
Series: Sirens M.C [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565332
Comments: 64
Kudos: 38





	1. Season 1, Episode 1: Siren Song (Pt. 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder that the content of this fic may contain canonical racism, discrimination, abuse, violence, substance abuse, gender discrimination. If you have seen Sons of Anarchy you should know what to expect and this is NO WAY reflective of the view of the author, who is an ally in every sense of the word and seeks to represent in a healthy way.

Night fell quickly in California. The searing heat of the desert sun meant darkness could not creep in gradually but instead fell like a curtain over the vast state. It wasn’t too bad in the big cities where sudden darkness was masked by evergreen skyscraper lights and constant headlights from eco-friendly cars, but out in the sticks and back-waters of Kings County, specifically the district of Corona, lights in the ever reaching darkness were few and far between.  
It was hard to mask, then, three separate sets of headlights speeding down the backroad out of Corona town and towards the border between Kings and Fresno counties. The first set of headlights clearly belonged to an enormous pick-up truck as black as the night surrounding it. It sped along at almost three times the speed limit, heading quickly for the border in a rampant sprint. The two single headlights in pursuit belonged to a pair of Harley Davidson motorcycles, the engines screaming in their attempt to catch up with their prey.

  
The large Mexican man behind the wheel of the pickup knew that he had little time left before they caught up to him. He could hear the engines getting closer and sweat trickled down his back. He knew dealing this shit in this neck of the woods was going to be a risk. His panicked eyes filled the rear view as he watched one of the riders, who had been lagging behind, suddenly spurge forwards and overtake their companion. These were lionesses closing in on a zebra. They worked best as a tactical team, and they were well practiced in their game. He had heard what people said about Corona and who not to piss off here. He had intended to keep a low profile, get in and out before he could be detected. Clearly things had not gone precisely according to the master plan, but the precious cargo on the backseat of his stolen pickup was wanted by too many people, important people, on his side of the county line to not take the risk.

  
That county border was in sight now on the horizon, locked in on his headlights. If he could just shake his stalkers for a little longer they shouldn’t pursue him outside of Corona. He knew they couldn’t workout pissing off the wrong kind of people. Thankfully, the wrong kind of people was precisely who he was in business with. He knew that, and these bitches knew it too.

  
One of the Harley’s suddenly drew up on his flank. He caught a glimpse of electric blue hair flowing beneath the law-abiding helmet before he hit the gas and swerved, causing the rider to back off rapidly or else become coyote-chow. A shot rang out in response from behind him and he ducked, but the bullet simply pinged off of his rear licence plate.  
Just a little more…

  
A little more...

  
And he was CLEAR of Corona and those pursuing him. He let out a cheer of inescapable gratefulness and flipped the bird out of his rear windscreen.  
“Adios, bitches!” He shouted as he sped away into the darkness and the safety of Fresno county.

  
Knowing that they were beat and could no longer pursue the motorcycles had backed off completely, coming to a stop inches from the invisible county border. The second rider kicked out the kickstand, dismounted the bike and angrily removed her barely regulation helmet, putting it on the bike seat with enough force to vent her anger but not enough to cause damage to the helmet or her bike.

  
“Son of a Bitch!” Queenie shouted after the coward. She still held a Desert Eagle in her right hand and hastily returned it to the back of her leather trousers.

  
Her companion had also set her bike resting on its kickstand, though she stood still astride it. She pulled a handgun from inside her black leather kutte and aimed it frustratedly after the distant headlights.

  
“It’s useless Blue. He’s well out of range.” Queenie said exasperatedly. Blue knew that she was right, and as Queenie angrily picked up a rock and threw it over the county line Blue promptly emptied her magazine into a nearby cactus. The light from the shot momentarily lit up each of their young faces, emphasising Queenie’s long nose and Blue’s deep blue eyes. Neither of them flinched. Gunshots were normal atmospherics around here.

  
“We had him.” Queenie was crouched in a squatting position, her fingers clasped beneath her chin and her elbows digging into her knees. “How did the bastard get away?”

  
“We underestimated him.” Blue said, calmly and casually replacing the magazine as easily as slotting a coin in a jukebox. “It won’t happen again.” It wasn’t a question.

  
Queenie sighed and retrieved her helmet. She remounted her noble steed and prepared to ride away, slotting her heeled biker boots into place as she had a thousand times. “This is going to be fun to explain.” Queenie said defeatedly, unable to mask her New York drawl in her anger. She refastened her helmet over her messy raven locks and spat on the ground.

  
“You got this, Pres.” Blue said, sliding her gun back inside her kutte. Her blue hair floated about her face in the evening breeze.

  
“I don’t know what I got anymore.” Queenie replied, spurring her bike onwards and back down the road, surrounded by a defeated aura. Shaking her head at her oldest friend, her Vice followed on in a cloud of dust and the roar of their defeat.

***

Cherry Pie wasn’t your regular drinking establishment. For one, the cops almost never bothered to answer calls here, be it brawl or murder, not that the latter seemed to happen. The bar had its own security for that, and they knew better than to poke around in Siren business. For another, the bar was loud, yet no one ever complained. If you moved into the neighbourhood you simply accepted it into being there. It was easily the heart of the small town of Corona, the jewel in the metaphorical crown.

  
It wasn’t a particularly large building, and so every night it was full to the rafters with rowdy folk enjoying each other’s company. The outside was red brick, unusual for California were most buildings were made of wood, but these piggies knew how to keep the wolf away. It was designed for long lasting stability - Cherry Pie was here to stay and had been since 1985. The parking lot was always overflowing with pickups, vintage cars, old bangers and most importantly - motorbikes.

  
The third thing that was unusual about Cherry Pie was the workforce. No men worked here. It was owned by the most powerful women California had to offer: the Sirens Motorcycle Club, Corona Original. Or, as the locals liked to call them, SiMCCO. Established just over fifteen years previously, SiMCCO had gone from strength to strength. It relied on its notoriety to get ahead. Cherry Pie was the base of operations for the eight women that currently made up California’s most notorious all-female motorcycle club.

It was to Cherry Pie that Queenie and Blue returned with their tails between their legs. The President and Vice President had left in a hurry when they had heard about the wetback dealing in their small town. They had intended to catch the bastard and hold him to account when they had ridden out a couple of hours previously. Now, it seemed, they would be disappointed. In any case their failure spelled a whole load of trouble to come.

  
Queenie did not dismount straight away as she positioned her bike in its parking spot. She was staring straight ahead pensievely as Blue pulled up beside her and climbed elegantly off her own bike.

  
“Queenie.” Blue said, “There ain’t nothing more we could have done.”

  
“I know that.” Queenie agreed. “It just riles me that we can’t cross the county border without bringing down a world of pain.”

  
“We don’t need that shit right now. Maybe for once we should let law enforcement catch the crook. Earn their living, you know?”

  
“Yeah.” Queenie shrugged.. “It just grinds my gears that Veneño have so much hold in Fresno.” She looked down at her helmet thoughtfully. “You know Foxy ain’t seen her sister in years? She only lived in San Joaquin. And it ain’t just Fresno. Fuego’s got eyes everywhere. I hate feeling so trapped.”

  
Blue surveyed her friend cautiously. She knew the reason Queenie was fighting against confinement, knew it better than anyone.

  
“I know. But there ain’t nothing we can do about it. Stop going to the dark place. You’re not back there.” She looked carefully at Queenie, who nodded. “Drugs trump honest work, clearly.” Blue hung her helmet on her bike handlebars and lit a cigarette. “Veneno’ll get their comeuppance soon. For now, come on,” She said, “I’m buying.”

  
“Which would be a lovely sentiment if we didn’t own the joint.” Queenie said with a small laugh as she swung her leg over her saddle and wrapped an arm around Blue’s shoulders.

  
“Hey, don’t knock my sentimentality.” Blue grinned as the pair walked towards the bar. “It don’t happen often.”

As predicted for zero dark thirty the bar was quietening down now as the weak went home and the courageous had drank themselves unconscious. The bulk of the Siren club sat in their usual booth and surrounding areas at the back of the room and various patrons filled the gap between. There was a cheer from all as Queenie and Blue entered, well known and well liked as they were. Precious behind the bar knew the drill as she poured a double, well practiced as she was with keeping the Sirens happy. She slid it across the bar top into Queenie’s waiting ringed hand and Queenie downed it in one gulp as she clocked her girls looking at her expectantly. Blue accepted her own double from Precious and headed straight over to them, giving Queenie a look on the way. Queenie allowed Precious to refill her glass before heading over herself. She positioned herself delicately on the edge of the pool table, within range of the club without being too business like. Blue slotted herself into the booth behind the Sirens. Up on her knees, she dug her hands into Ginger’s shoulders in a companionable jostle.

  
Queenie took a moment before addressing their expectant faces. She knew them all well after so long as a member of the club and knew they would understand, but hated to be the one to have to tell them they’d failed when they had been so close.

  
At the far end of the booth sat Phoenix, her ebony skin glowing in the dim light of the bar. She was carving an apple with her bowie knife, her Sgt at Arms patch lighting up in the reflective knife. Phoenix didn’t speak much but when she did she meant business. Beside her was Foxy, with her colourful tattoos and two-tone red and black hair. Foxy was a Chilean fire-Princess with nerves of steal, obsessed with anything explosive. She had a tattoo of a cráneo del azúcar large and looming on her neck. Next to her, closest to Queenie, was Angel. Angel was a descendant of the first Chinese immigrants of 1815. She had a good head for poisons and was far from her nickname. Opposite Phoenix sat Black Widow, the eldest of the current members and the only one of the First 8 still kicking. Black Widow was in her late 40s and brought grace and wisdom with her years. She was currently looking at accounts with her pointed glasses on the end of the long nose, her hair an elegant mix of black and white. Beside her, with her shoulders under Blue’s ringed hands, was Ginger. Ginger was the newest and youngest member of the club and the only member to have blood connections with the First 8. She was the only daughter of Taz, who had been the former Vice President, and had been a Prospect until just three months earlier. Voting her in had been a unanimous decision after the death of her mother.

  
A quick sweep of the booth showed one to be missing.

  
“Where’s Bonnie?” Blue asked, having noticed the absense of their prospect at the same time as Queenie.

  
“Last seen at the bar.” Phoenix shrugged.

  
“Alone?” Queenie looked over at the vastly emptying bar. Her mysterious green eyes burned soulfully. They were unusual for a person of her heritage and had always been a bewitching feature about her, part of her charm. She outlined them daily in black kohl to emphasise their impact.

  
“With someone she said she knew.” Angel added.

  
“Someone?” Blue asked.

  
“Big fella, wide. Looked like the football type.” Angel shrugged.

  
Queenie and Blue exchanged looks.

  
“It’s either her ex-boyfriend or one of Fisher’s lot.” Blue said.

  
“I hope not.” Foxy said. “Fisher knows better than to send them here uninvited.”

  
“When did they disappear?” Queenie looked around with a knitted frown on her face.

  
“Hey, she’s got herself in that mess if it is one of Fisher’s.” Black Widow shrugged.

  
“What if she can’t pay? Fisher comes expensive.” Ginger asked.

  
“They do indeed cum expensive.” Foxy stuck her pierced tongue out as her fellow Sirens laughed at her joke. Queenie chuckled.

  
“Get ya head outta the gutter, Fox. If he is one of Fisher’s and Bonnie can’t pay it means we gotta.”

  
“Let’s hope it’s not, or Bonnie will be making up the cost by cleaning the floor with a toothbrush.” Phoenix said.

  
“How did it go with the runner?” Angel asked, diverting the clubs attention back to the matter at hand. Queenie’s smile faded. She’d been glad of the distraction.  
“Son of a bitch got away.” Blue said solemnly. “We caught him inches from the border.”

  
“Didn’t wanna risk it?” Black Widow was looking at the President with darkened eyes. It was a challenge.

  
“The last thing we need right now is war with Veneño. We all know what happened last time we got involved.” Queenie stared her down.

  
The girls all took a moment to hang their heads as they remembered the fallen.

  
“I know it better than most.” Black Widow agreed. She shrugged. “Alright. Good call, Queenie.” Queenie met Black Widow’s eyes for a moment. She didn’t need praise from this old hen, but she smiled all the same.

  
“Someone should probably find Bonnie before she does something she’ll regret.” Blue said, slicing through the tension.

  
“I’ll go.” Queenie said, as Angel made to stand. She needed time to think. She hopped down off of the pool table and headed for the apartment behind the bar, marked ‘Employees Only’. Her head was filled with the headlights of the getaway driver and the bloodbath that had come with their last grapple with Veneño.  
“Hey, Queenie.” Precious said tentatively as Queenie approached. Queenie jumped a little as she stopped to look at her, torn from her thoughts.

  
“What is it?”

  
Precious was holding the bar phone to her chest as though it would silence the earpiece.

  
“Phone call for you. Says it’s urgent.” The club in the booth had been quietly chattering as soon as Queenie left but now they sat up to take stock.

  
“Who is it? What do they want at this time of night?” Queenie asked as she held out her hand for the phone. It was still wired into the wall, no sense in upgrading with modern technology, so she had to reach across the bar for it. She was frowning at Precious.

  
“I don’t know.” Precious said. “They just asked for the SiMCCO President.”

  
Queenie’s intrigue peaked as she took the phone from Precious and put it cautiously to her ear.

  
“Hello?” She asked. The club were watching breathlessly. “This is the President.”

  
There was clearly male breathing on the other end. It was ragged, uncertain.

  
“You’re not the President.” A voice replied. “I need the President.”

  
“I am the only President that SiMCCO’s got. Who is speaking?”

  
There was a pause.

  
“What’s your name, chica?” The voice asked. His voice was forceful, a hint of Heights accent in there.

  
“Not until you tell me who you are and what you want.”

  
There was a pause. The voice was thinking.

  
“My name is Clay Morrow.”

  
Queenie nearly dropped the phone. Her chest tightened as she took a deep breath. Why the fuck was he calling here? “Clay Morrow as in SAMCRO Clay Morrow?” She asked.

  
“I’m looking for the President. Lady.”

  
“Mista, Lady has been dead for a good four years.”

  
There was a longer pause on the other end of the phone.

  
“You’re the President now?”

  
“Yeah. Names Queenie.”

“Then I need to talk to you, Queenie.” Clay said in a deadpan tone of voice.

  
Queenie pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at her club. They were watching intently. Not wanting to lose face, Queenie blinked down at the phone uncertainly and then put it back to her ear.

  
“Alright.” She said. “I’m listening.”

  
“My boys here heard you got a bit of a poison problem.”

  
“Veneño?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“How do yous know that?”

  
“We got connections in Fresno county. The thing is, Pres,” The last word dripped with sarcasm, “I don’t really want to discuss it over the phone. Can you and your girls get up to Charming?”

  
Queenie bristled. Noone, and that meant SAMCRO, called them girls.

  
“That would mean riding through Fresno. We can’t do that at present.”

  
“Then we’ll come to you.”

  
“What?”

  
“How does tomorrow sound.” It wasn’t a question. “Corona, right? We’ll be there by noon.”

  
And he had hung up before Queenie could argue. She stared at the phone.

  
“Who was it?” Blue called. She lit another cigarette and took a long drag as she perched on the back of the booth bench. Queenie handed the dead phone back to a frowning Precious and turned to her club. Behind Blue the members were craning to look at her closer.

  
“Clay Morrow.” Queenie said.

  
There was a ripple of recognition as the club looked at one another.

  
“What the Hell do SAMCRO want?” Black Widow asked indignantly.

  
“We’ll find out tomorrow.” Queenie said. “They’ll be here by noon.”

  
There was a stunned silence.

  
Then, with a creak of the door and a giggle, Bonnie emerged from the apartment, her blonde hair messy and her hand holding that of her ex-boyfriend.

“Hey,” She trilled. “What did I miss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Bury my Bones - Whiskey Myers


	2. Season 1, Episode 1: Siren Song (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sons and the Sirens hold a meeting.

Queenie barely slept a wink but instead tossed and turned all night thinking over everything that had led to this moment. The Veneño massacre of the remaining senior members of the Sirens had left its dark mark on the club. They had a member leading up to the blows, they had lost four sisters on that day, and one more had quit because of it. In the space of a year the Sirens had needed to undergo an almost entire upheavel of management. All because Veneño didn’t sit well with women controlling such a, what used to be, important area of drug trade. It had taken them another year to rebuild and regroup after the massacre. Thankfully at the time they had had a handful of new members and the prospects were patched in so the club didn’t have to close.  
Now SAMCRO were coming to stick their dicks in on Siren business. Queenie had been warned by Lady that the male clubs would want to piss all over them to mark their territory. Queenie had been President for four years now. It was only a matter of time until someone came to challenge her command. And SAMCRO had history with SiMCCO. Or rather, this Clay Morrow had history with Lady. A history that for better or worse should stay history. The last thing Queenie wanted was that history showing its ugly face in Corona, or Clay pissing over Lady’s creation.  
By the time the sun rose Queenie had not slept a wink. She had opted not to go home but had instead slept on the sofa of Cherry Pie, and was still wrapped up and using her kutte as a blanket when Blue let herself in. She looked like she had hardly slept either and paused in her path to the coffee machine to send Queenie a head-nod.  
“You stay here last night?” She asked.  
“Yeah. Time got away from me.” Queenie sat up, pulled her kutte about herself properly and set about lacing up her boots.  
“You worried about SAMCRO?” Blue asked.  
“Aren’t you?” Queenie asked. “I feel like they’re coming to shut us down.”  
“Like a kid sent away from the class.”  
“Yeah.”  
“You think it’s about Lady?”  
“It’s gotta be. Clay’s President now. I don’t know how I’m gonna be civil, Blue. She was like a mom to us, and this guy completely screwed her over.”  
“As long as he doesn’t bring that whore with him. What was her name?” Blue motioned to Queenie with a coffee mug.  
“Gemma. I don’t know him, but no one would be that stupid.” Queenie nodded at the silent coffee question.  
“Do you think he’d really dig up the past?”  
“The Sons of Anarchy have not wanted anything to do with the Sirens since we started. Why could he possibly want us now.”  
“Maybe this Gemma chick died or something. Clay was feeling sentimental, wanted to make it up to Lady.” Blue handed Queenie her coffee and settled herself down on a barstool opposite her.  
“He mentioned Veneño. Said he knew we were having a problem with them.”  
“The massacre made national news.”  
“A year ago. How could he know the problem is still horribly present?”  
Queenie sipped her cofee thoughtfully.  
“How do you want to play it, Pres? With these guys?” Blue asked. “I know how you feel about men in general, not least ones muscling in on our territory.”  
“I feel about men the same way they feel about me.”  
“Wam-bam-thank-you-mam.” Blue and Queenie said in unison. They both giggled. It was nice to laugh in the midst of all of this uncertainty. Queenie’s smile soon faded as she thought about Blue’s question.  
“We’ll play it cool. We don’t want them to know we know anything about them, or Clay’s past with Lady.”  
“This club was founded on Clay’s past with Lady.” Blue chuckled.  
“True.”  
“Did he say how many were coming?”  
“No. He just said they’d be here by noon.” Queenie glanced at the clock above the bar. It was 9.30. She rubbed her forehead in the manner that she always did when she was nervous.  
“It’ll be fine, Queen. Just be who you are and show them what we’re made of.” Blue said. “And for the love of God don’t fuck any of them!”  
“Would I ever?” Queenie asked with a twinkle in her eye. Blue simply raised her eyebrow at her friend. 

****

Noon struck and right on cue the sound of roaring engines could be heard on the road outside Cherry Pie. The bar had been closed for the evening for a private function, and only Precious and Jasmine were permitted on the premises to serve their guests. The Sirens themselves stood inV-formation out the front of their clubhouse,, Queenie in front, Blue and Phoenix to her sides and everyone else behind. The prospect stood a little way off, her eyes covered with dark glasses to mask her hangover.  
The Sons of Anarchy turned into the parking lot, also in formation, each wearing kuttes displaying their colours and dark glasses. They were not at all what the Sirens had expected. Most were older than middle age. One or two had long scraggly hair and almost all had beards of some sort. The first rider, presumably Clay Morrow by the President patch he displayed proudly on his chest, was hard in appearance with a frown on his brow and a cigar in his mouth. They were attempting to be foreboding in their approach but it wasn’t entirely working. Queenie scanned each of their faces as they each in turn parked up and dismounted, taking off their glasses in unison. Queenie smirked, wondering if they had practiced. Now that she could see their faces it confirmed that most of them were old enough to be most of her club’s dads. One actually had a beer-belly, another a nose big enough to hide under, another a wide scar on both sides of his face, and the fourth, clearly the youngest, had a shaved mohawk, tattoos on his head and he stuck out his chin in an attempt to look ‘hard’. It was this one that held Queenie’s gaze the longest. There was something about him that intrigued her.  
The first rider to attract Blue’s attention was the VP. He was at least 6’1 with a scraggly beard and slicked back blonde hair. He lit a cigarette as he approached Clay, clapping the old man on the shoulder on the way past.  
Queenie wrinkled her nose as the smell of cigar grew closer to her as Clay held out his hand.  
“Queenie, I presume.” He said. His grip was firm and challenging, his rings digging in to her softer hand as she accepted the handshake.  
“You must be Clay.”  
“You’re younger than I imagined.” Clay said. There was a snicker from behind him.  
“Ee. They’re all schoolgirls.” The scarred one remarked in a thick Scottish accent. Queenie heard Foxy snarl behind her. She held up a hand to stay her.  
“Funny.” Queenie said, ignoring the scotsman and holding onto Clay’s hand a little too long as she dug her own rings into his crinkled skin, “I was just thinking how old yous all seem.”  
“Don’t let Juice hear you.” Clay’s eyes sparkled menacingly. “You’ll give him a complex. He’s ancient as it is.”  
“Hey.” Said the one with the head tattoos. Queenie’s eyes flickered from Clay to Juice and back. She removed her hand from his tentacle.  
“I trust the journey went without a hitch.”  
“Barely a whisper as we sped through Fresco. Veneño know better than to mess with us.”  
Queenie narrowed her stunning green eyes as she met his cold and calculating ones. He smiled a smile that did not reach them.  
“Let me introduce my guys.” Clay said, turning from her to acknowledge his club. “Juice,” The younger one held up a hand; “Chibs,” the Scotsman raised an eyebrow; “Tig,” the one with the nose winked and Queenie jerked her head, recognising the name; “Bobby Elvis,” the beer-belly nodded his head; “And this here is Jax.” Clay clapped a hand on the tall one’s shoulder. Blue’s eyebrow twitched as she clocked his name. She couldn’t describe how she was feeling looking at him. If she didn’t know any better she would say it was a fairytale, but this was Corona, not an enchanted forest. Blue shrugged to clear her mind. This Jax seemed to be picking up on it.  
“Welcome to Corona, fellas.” Queenie said, pulling Blue out of her thoughts.. “This is Angel, Foxy, Ginger, Black Widow, Bonnie and Blue.” She gestured to each of her women in turn and they acknowledged the introduction. “Blue’s my right hand. Anything you gotta say to me you can say to her.”  
“Nice to meet you, girls.” Clay said with an indignant glimmer in his eye. A ripple of contention shot through the Sirens. Queenie, answering the call, took a step closer to Clay. The Sons could tell he had fucked up as they watched her square up to him. Queenie was only 5’5, 5’8 in heels, but she seemed to tower over Clay in this moment. He cowered a little under her gaze.  
“Girls go to school, Clay. They braid each others hair and fret about spots and cry about boys. We are not girls. You will call us Sirens, or ladies if you must clump us together in one word. Similarly, and as a gesture of good faith, we will not call you boys because we can see that you clearly ain’t. You’ve got big shoulders, big dicks and big egos. You are men. We are women. Got it?” Queenie said. Her accent shone through when she got irritated.  
“Loud and clear, ma’am.” Clay replied. There was a hint of admiration underneath the sarcasm in his voice.  
Queenie smiled, her aura of menace dwindling. “Good.” She said. “Shall we take this inside?”  
“After you..” Clay said, gesturing.  
Queenie nodded curtly and turned to lead her crew through the doors and into their clubhouse. The Sons, exchanging glances, followed suit.  
The Siren clubhouse was adjacent to the Cherry Pie bar but was accessed through a single door to the right. The only way between the two was by walking through their church, dubbed the ‘throne room’, and out the other side, meaning only members (and guests) could access Cherry Pie this way. The door to church was deep blue with a Siren scratched into it. The clubhouse was small, with a pool table in the centre and a series of rickety tables and chairs scattered around for anyone who might be waiting. The walls were an egg-shell blue and the furnishings dark wood and every inch had a knife and dart knicks in it somewhere as though it was often used for target practice. Another door in the wall had the letters G.R scratched into it and numerous bullet holes dotted about the finish. It was into the main room that Queenie led the Sirens and Sons and then turned to face them all like a tour guide leading a group.  
“Welcome to Atlantis, gentleman.” Queenie said, gesturing around her. She nodded to Bonnie who crossed to a metal box attached to the wall, “Guns, phones and general nuisance shit in that box if yous please.” She pointed to the box that Bonnie was now modelling like a glamorous assistant, her eyes over her arm.  
“All of it?” The guy called Juice asked from towards the back of the group.  
“All of it.” Queenie nodded, her mysterious green eyes burning into him. He looked away sharpish. Phoenix shook the box lid like a charity collector looking for coins. The Sons reluctantly began to pull phones out of their pockets but none posted them yet. Queenie sensed their reluctance. She folded her arms. “You’re in our house now. I don’t know how you do things over in Charming, but here we do things differently. We don’t allow anything harmful in our throne room. Trust is our currency and we are filthy rich. You may think your brotherhood is strong, but there is nothing stronger than sisterhood. You’re playing with the big boys now, and they all got pussies.” Queenie spoke confidently, staring each of them down in turn. Her Sirens nodded in agreement around her. From the back of the group of men Tig made an exclamation through his nose, a scoff. Queenie turned to him, her green eyes burning. “You in the back, got something to share with the group?” Queenie asked. All eyes were on Tig as he looked like a naughty child stuck playing with something he shouldn’t be. “No? Then why don’t you take your dick outta your ass and your mouth off the floor and we can talk business like adults.” Queenie flashed him a smile and fluttered her eyelashes. Tig had never been more aroused. He shuffled uncomfortably as there was a collective chuckle from the group as they turned to him.  
“She got you there, Tiggy.” Jax teased.  
“This ain’t no sorority gentlemen. If you came here to marvel at skimpy skirts and pillow fights may I refer you to the strip joint down on fourteenth street. We don’t spend our evenings talking about boys and braiding each others hair. We spend our evenings in the shooting range,” She gestured at the door marked G.R, “The tattoo parlour or at the bottom of a bottle of Jack. We decide what shit we’re gonna do and we get it done. If your egos or your dicks are gonna get in the way or you’re going to get too distracted by a couple’a pussies telling you where to go and what to do then I suggest you take your hands off your dicks and leave the way you came.” The Sirens chuckled as they waited. Nobody moved. Queenie looked at them all in turn. Clay had his eyebrow raised, seemingly impressed. “Good. So. What can we help you with Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club: Redwood Original?” Queenie gestured for Bonnie to open the door to the throne room. The Sons exchanged looks with each other, a few letting out low whistles, before unhooking their gun-belts and depositing their phone in the box. Chibs made a move as though to grab Tig’s dick and he recoiled away from him with a growl. Chibs laughed and followed the group as one-by-one they filtered into the throne room for church.  
As predicted the throne room was vastly different to the Anarchy church, though the general layout was the same. An enormous graffiti mural spread across the back wall, depicting a graphic image of a shipwreck and surviving sailors being eaten, or sucked off, by sirens. The sirens in this mural were not the feminine logo of the MC but sharper-toothed, razor-scaled monstrous creatures. Jax exchanged a glance with Chibs as they surveyed the painting.  
“Nice art.” Chibs commented.  
Blue, who was passing, raised an eyebrow at him. “Just in case anyone needs reminding that we’re not fucking mermaids.” She said curtly.  
“Noted.” Chibs replied musingly.  
The other walls were covered with old photographs and posters of bikes and riders, including those of the First 8. Clay’s eyes fell on one as he felt a pang of guilt at Lady’s smiling face. Queenie was watching him carefully and he noticed, rubbing his jowls as if his staring had simply been a stretch. Another set of photos, each showing an individual First 8 minus Black Widow, was laid out in formation beneath a plaque that read ‘“Come and rest thee, oh come hither, to this peaceful land of ours. Where evermore the low west-wind creeps panting up the shore. Follow, o’follow, to be at rest forevermore. Forevermore.” ~ Lowell.’ As Jax read the poignant poem he realised every Siren had the final word patched on the shoulders of their kuttes. Now he understood why. It was a tribute. A memory. Or a warning. Jax looked back at the photos and said a silent prayer to the fallen.  
The wall behind Queenie’s Present chair was a shrine similar to the one at TM, depicting mugshots of the Sirens who had served time. Each one had a plaque beneath it, a badge of honour. Of the current members, Queenie was in the top left with ‘Prostitution, 6 months & Theft & Possession of Stolen Goods, 18 months’ underneath. Beside her was Blue with ‘Assault, 2 years’, then Phoenix with ‘Arson, 3 years’, Angel with ‘Possession of a blade, 4.5 years’ and finally Black Widow with ‘Prostitution, 6 months & Assaulting a police officer, 2.5 years’. Beneath them were members of the fallen old guard with their collective crimes. The Sons couldn’t help but be secretly impressed. It was growing increasingly obvious that the girls, despite their gender, were every bit as badass as the Sons.  
Queenie took her seat at the head of the oakwood table next to the gavel. Blue sat on her left, Phoenix on her right, and the rest of the members taking their usual seats. The Sons were left to filter in on the lower end. Clay took the seat directly opposite Queenie at the other end of the table. Queenie looked at him as he did so, holding eye contact, the challenge accepted. Her ringed fingers closed around her gavel in reaction. When all of the Sons were seated Queenie cleared her throat.  
“So, SAMCRO. What can we help you with?” Queenie asked.  
“It’s not so much where you can help us,” Clay said smarmily, “But where we can help you.” The Sirens looked to Queenie, knowing what was coming.  
“Do we look like we need your help?” Queenie asked, as predicted, her voice icy and dangerous.  
“Queen.” Blue said quietly, keeping the lid on her President. Queenie took a breath.  
“Sorry, Clay, but we don’t come into your church and piss all over your shoes. Did you come all the way from Charming to insult us, treat us like a lesser species?”  
“We’re here to talk about your Veneno problem.” Clay said, not rising to the bait.  
“We can handle it.”  
“That’s not what we’ve heard.” Tig said. Queenie’s bewitching eyes switched to him.  
“What have you heard?”  
“Fuego has withdrawn his men from San Joaquin. We think he’s planning to lash out at Corona.” Jax said calmly. Queenie’s eyes snapped to him.  
“How do you make that out?” Queenie asked. The Sons and Sirens watched her move between them like a tennis match.  
“They told us.” Clay said. Her eyes settled back on him.  
“You’ve spoken with Veneno?” Blue asked before Queenie could. “Why?”  
“They wanted to enlist us. Pay us to run their venom for them.” Jax explained.  
“That’s what happens when you get into running. Everyone wants you to traffic their shit.” Phoenix said darkly.  
Clay raised an eyebrow. “Hey. I don’t tell you how to run your club, don’t tell me how to run mine.” He lashed out.  
Queenie knocked her rings on the table to call order. “What did they say?” She asked.  
“They gotta teach the bitches a lesson.” Clay held up his hands as the Sirens bristled, “Their words not mine. They want to make you suffer.”  
“What’s the beef with you and Veneno anyway?” Jax asked.  
“It goes back to Lady’s time.” Blue said after looking to Queenie for permission to tell the story. “Fuego wanted Lady to run his drugs, thought it would be a good way in as everyone trusts a woman. Lady wasn’t having it. Set out with Sugar and Goldilocks, Sgt and VP, and sent him a message.”  
“They planned to kidnap his old lady, show him women have worth. He’d miss her when she was gone.” Ginger piped in. “Send the message women shouldn’t be fucked with.”  
“Things went south.” Foxy added, “The old lady ended up dead.”  
“Fuego wouldn’t accept an explanation. He just wanted blood.” Blue added. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag.  
“He got it.” Queenie finished darkly. “Slaughtered half our club in a massacre four years ago.” Her eyes burned into Clay’s. “Lady couldn’t take losing those she loved all over again. She died of a broken heart.” Queenie finished the story. There was silence around the table.  
“So it’s a blood vendetta?” Juice piped up eventually. All eyes moved towards him and he cowered slightly but continued to stare down Queenie. She nodded.  
“Taking down our club is the only blood he will settle for. We’ve kept him at bay until now.”  
“Now?” Jax asked.  
“Veneno has been filtering in slowly. A trickle that’ll soon become a roar.” Blue said deeply. Jax nodded at her words.  
“What can we do to help?” He asked, concern on his face.  
Queenie and Blue exchanged looks. For some reason when Jax spoke Queenie didn’t want to strangle him, unlike Clay. Queenie looked to Jax.  
“We can’t leave King County. Veneno won’t allow it.”  
“At all?” Tig asked incredulously. Queenie shook her head.  
“We’re prisoners in our own county. Some of us got family elsewhere who we ain’t seen in years.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “We need to know what they’re up to in Fresno.” She sucked her teeth. “They’ll let yous in.” She looked to Clay. “Especially if yous are already tight.”  
Clay simply smirked.  
Jax nodded. “Alright.” He looked to his Sons. “We’ll put it to a vote back in Charming and let you know.”  
Clay raised an eyebrow at him. “Will we now?” He asked, resenting being told what to do.  
“I say we vote now.” Chibs said. Clay glared at him. “Why wait? We came all this way.”  
Clay, helplessly, looked between Jax and Chibs. He shrugged in acceptance.  
Queenie pushed the gavel across the table and Clay pulled it to him. He weighed it in his hand, getting a feel for it.  
“Dainty.” He commented. “Alright, Sons. All in favour of working with the Sirens to bring down Fuego and Veneno. To working undercover to gain intel.”  
There was a unanimous ‘aye’ from the Sons. Clay banged the gavel and pushed it back to Queenie.  
“There you have it, ladies.” He said. Queenie gave him a forced smile as she pulled her gavel back towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Sisters are Doin' It For Themselves - Eurythmics & Aretha Franklin


	3. Season 1, Episode 1: Siren Song (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sons and Sirens make an alliance. Queenie struggles with her trust issues.

Church convened and the Sirens led the Sons through the second door and into the bar. Queenie clicked her fingers at Precious and Jasmine behind the bar and swung her thumb at the group of men.  
“Keep ‘em hydrated ladies.” She ordered. Precious and Jasmine jumped to the command and hastily pulled out beers from the fridge. As the Sons surged forward Queenie put a hand up to halt the progress of Tig, whom she had identified as the one who would be a problem after remembering why she knew his name. He frowned as he turned to her. “Tig, right?” She asked.  
“Yeah.” He nodded.  
“My sisters are not to be messed around. You want to get your kicks you go elsewhere. Got me?” She warned. Tig blinked, unsure as to where or how she had read him so easily. He nodded.  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
Queenie smiled at him. “Good. Then we’ll get along fine.” She removed her hand and Tig, bewildered, joined his brothers at the bar. Queenie folded her arms as Clay came up beside her, the smell of his cigar still lingering.  
“You seem to be running a tight ship here.” He said, “No pun intended.”  
“In a world full of men, it's important to hold our ground.” She said.  
“You seem very distrustful of my boys.” Clay said.  
Queenie looked directly at him, her expression almost one of horror. “Can you blame me after what you did to her.”  
Clay set his jaw and cleared his throat.  
“What I did to Edie wasn’t fair. I should have ended things with her before it got too far. I knew we wouldn’t work but she was honest and kind and she needed me, you know.”  
“Yeah.” Queenie scoffed. “I know exactly what she was like.”  
“You gotta know I really did love her.”  
“Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night. Whatever you felt I’m sure it was real once.” She didn’t sound sincere. “I should be thanking you really. Without your betrayal she never would have found the strength to leave Charming. I’ve heard it’s a town where once you move in you never leave.”  
“Edie did.”  
“She did. And because of you and what you did she started something great here in Corona. You’re right, Clay, it is a tight ship. We gotta be when everyone keeps trying to blow holes in us. You heard your guy just before. ‘Schoolgirls’.” She used air quotes to emphasise her points.  
“Ah, that’s just Chibs.” Clay waved a dismissive hand.  
“Yeah, and it’s comments and attitudes like that that mean anyone with a dick tries shittin’ on us daily.” Queenie said angrily. She caught herself, blinked and looked away. “Anyways. You’re here now and we’re grateful for your help. Grab a drink and you, me, and Black Widow’ll sit down and talk strategy. Us MC’s gotta stick together an’ all. Even I know that our days are numbered without outside help.” She pursed her lips and sucked her teeth. “Even if that help is Clay Morrow.”  
Queenie made to walk away but Clay caught her arm. She turned back to him, pulling her arm out of his slimy grip.  
“I’d real appreciate it if you didn’t mention my history with Edie around the guys.” Clay said quietly. “Especially not around my VP.” Queenie frowned at him as she followed his gaze to look upon Jax. “He doesn’t know all the facts.”  
Queenie frowned for a moment, then nodded. “It’s his ma you were boning, huh?” She scoffed and shook her head in disbelief.  
“Will you keep it quiet? As a mark of good faith for our deal.” It wasn’t a question. Queenie folded her arms again and exhaled through her nose.  
“Sure Clay. Whatever you need. See you in church again in ten minutes.” And with that she walked away from the man who physically repulsed her so. She slid into a booth alone, needing space to contemplate matters.

Over at the bar Blue was resting her elbows on the bartop, a scowl on her face and a glass in her hand. She was ignoring the movement all around her as Sons got to know Sirens. There was a creak of leather beside her and the VP slid onto a stool. Blue could smell his heady aftershave and she wrinkled her nose.  
“Hey, it’s Blue, right?” Jax asked.  
Blue grunted. “You get that from the hair?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm. Jax simply laughed.  
“It was a contributing factor.” He admitted. “Can I ask you a question?”  
“Sure.” Blue tried to sound uninterested.  
“Why are you all so grumpy?”  
Blue’s head snapped to him. “Are you actually kidding me?”  
“I know you’ve all got serious chips on your shoulder when it comes to men, that much is really fucking obvious.” Jax laughed, “But we’re not all rapists and abusers.” Blue flinched slightly. “Some guys actually have their hearts in the right place, you know. I can vouch for every one of my brothers.”  
“Even Clay?”  
“Even Clay. The man’s got his flaws but we all do.”  
“They send you over here to fight their corner?” Blue asked as she turned to face him, matching his stance.  
He simply smiled. “We’re here to help you, Blue. Let us.”  
His soft eyes melted into Blue’s. She could feel her icy demenour faltering. She sighed to cover it.  
“Fine. But I can’t promise you won’t still be met with hostility. We all got demons.” She said with a shrug. Jax nodded.  
“Don’t we all.” He said. Blue frowned at him. She was sure his demons wouldn’t triumph hers, but the sentiment was there.

Tig slid into Queenie’s booth, two bottles of beer in his hand. “I didn’t know your poison but the blonde chick seemed to think this was a good way to go.” He said, pushing one of the bottles towards a frowning Queenie. She blinked at him but accepted the beer with a nod.  
“Thanks.” She said quietly.  
“I just wanted to come over and make sure we’re good.”  
“We? Why? Do we gotta be?” Queenie sounded skeptical.  
“Yeah. Clay and Jax got their own shit back in Charming. If anyones gonna be in regular contact with you ladies it’ll be me.” Tig raised his beer in a mini ‘cheers’ gesture.  
“Great.” Queenie said sarcastically. Tig frowned as he lowered the bottle from his lips.  
“I don’t know why you seem to dislike me so much. As far as I know I haven’t done anything to you.” Tig said.  
“So you don’t recognise me?” Queenie asked with a raised eyebrow. Tig frowned at her. She waited. Then, as Tig looked into her unusual eyes his face lit up.  
“Shit.” He breathed.  
“Bingo.” Queenie said.  
“Look, I didn’t know how old you were.” Tig sounded shocked. “If I had I would have never…”  
“Yeah I get that a lot. It was another lifetime Tig, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t you that got me arrested anyways.” Queenie smirked.  
“You got arrested?” Tig asked incredulously.  
“You don’t work as a prostitute without repercussions. Especially not at 17. They didn’t take my money. It turned out okay.”  
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Tig said. Queenie chuckled. “You’ve come up in the world since then, though.” Tig gestured around. “President and everything.”  
“Another life.”  
“I’m sorry that you’ve got these opinions of me.” Tig sighed.  
“You still a womanizer?” Queenie asked.  
“Yeah…”  
“Don’t sweat it. It’s not like I’m innocent in this.” Queenie swigged her beer. “What fun is chastity?”  
A moment passed in silence as they both smiled at their own misdoings.  
“Did you name the bar?” Tig asked.  
“Nah. That was Lady’s sense of humour. Name it after the number two stripper song, reclaim a little of what should be our right.” Queenie swigged again.  
“Why not the number one song?” Tig laughed.  
“Cherry Pie you can sorta get away with. Pour Some Sugar on Me is a little too obvious.” Queenie laughed through her nose.  
Juice appeared at the end of the table.  
“Mind if I join?” He asked with a smile. Queenie felt her breath catch unusually in her throat as she looked at him. Up close he was even more attractive. Tig looked between them then shrugged.  
“Sure Juicey.” He said, sliding up so Juice could sit next to him. Juice smiled.  
“It’s a nice place.” Juice said, eager to please. “Kinda quiet, you know?”  
“Wow. Well observed, grandma.” Tig said. “C’mon.”  
Juice hung his head. Queenie chuckled.  
“You should see it on a regular Saturday night.” She said. “Quite the bodega.” Juice raised an eyebrow as he recognised the slang.  
“Your accent. It’s not Queens is it?” Juice asked. Tig rolled his eyes but Queenie looked amazed.  
“Ya. Not a lot of people down this end of the country know that. It’s just New York to them.” She was hooked.  
“My Ma’s from Queens. I was born there.” Juice sounded excited. Tig looked from him to Queenie and back. It was clear they had cut him out of the conversation.  
“I’m gonna go.” He said to nobody as he climbed over the back of the booth. Juice slid into his seat eagerly.  
“Where did you grow up?” He asked.  
“The Village. You?”  
“Me too!” Juice exclaimed.  
“No fucking way.” Queenie couldn’t help but smile naturally wide for the first time in a long time.  
“Yeah!” Juice said.  
“When did you leave?”  
“Couple’a years back.” Juice said, his own Queens accent shining throughby proxy. Queenie shook her head in disbelief. “What about you?”  
Queenie’s smile faded as her past rushed back to her. She felt her chest tighten again as her wall came back up.  
“I was fifteen. So like… eleven years ago.”  
“Why’d you go?” Juice asked. He was still too excited to notice her falter.  
She shook her head. “I just couldn’t live there anymore.”  
“Yeah I get that.” Juice was shaking his head at her. “Small world.”  
“What’s going on here?” Black Widow asked, sauntering up to the table.  
“Juice and I grew up blocks from each other and never knew.” Queenie explained.  
“Wow.” Black Widow raised her eyebrows. “How weird is that.”  
“Super weird.” Juice beamed at Queenie. “Hey, is that why your name is Queenie?”  
Queenie nodded. “No flies on you, huh?”  
“Aces.” He was beaming. Queenie offered him a small smile in response.  
“Queenie, we gotta talk about how we’re gonna do this.” Black Widow said. “Clay’s waiting. Sorry to break you away.”  
“No. It’s alright.” Queenie got to her feet apologetically. “Sorry Juice.”  
“No worries. We’ll talk another time?”  
“I’d like that.” Queenie smiled genuinely at him before following Black Widow into the throne room. Juice smiled to himself until he caught Chibs’ eye. Chibs just shook his head at him.  
Chibs turned away from Juice to look in the direction of Jax and Blue. There was something about her that made him wonder, an energy that he recognised. It was the energy of disassociation. He knew it well. He made a vow to pull her aside and speak with her, get a feel for who she was. It suddenly hit him why he was drawn to her: she reminded him of his own daughter.

In the throne room Clay was sitting in the chair that should be reserved for the VP. Raising an eyebrow but deciding not to question or argue it, Queenie sat in her own chair with Black Widow on her right.  
“Thank you for agreeing to a meeting just us three, Clay.” She said as she sat down. Clay was watching Queenie too intently to comment much on Black Widow’s statement.  
“Makes sense.” He grunted. “Too many cooks and all. So how do you wanna do this? Me and the guys gotta head back to Charming in the morning but…”  
“The morning?” Queenie interjected. She hadn’t thought about that part of their visit.  
“Sure.” Clay said. He saw her frown and chuckled. “Don’t worry. They’re used to sleeping on floors and tables.”  
Queenie nodded.  
“Continue.” Black Widow prompted, looking between them. “But…?”  
“As we ride through Fresno we can have a gander and see whats what with Fuego. Get back to you on what we find out.”  
“Do you not know that already if you’ve bet with him?” Queenie asked suspiciously. Black Widow looked between them as the ice set in.  
“Nah.” Clay said. “Only the four men he brought with him. They’re strong, large, ex-Russian I think. Didn’t say much but looked Russian. We’ll find out how many more there are.”  
“How do you plan to do that?” Queenie asked.  
“Persuasion.” Clay cricked his neck to one side, his eyes dark.  
“Do we wanna know?” Black Widow asked.  
“It’ll get the job done?” Queenie was looking at Clay. Black Widow frowned at her.  
“Oh yeah.” Clay replied.  
“Then do it. Just let us know the outcome.” Queenie ordered. Clay’s eyebrow twitched.  
“Will do.” Clay nodded. Queenie banged her hand on the table to pass the motion. Clay stood to leave. Queenie watched him go with a sigh.  
“You alright, Pres?” Black Widow asked.  
“I’m having a real hard time trusting that man.” She replied.  
Black Widow nodded. “You and me both kiddo. I can’t get past what he did. And that’s coming from me.”  
Queenie smiled at her. “At least they won’t be in our clubhouse long. They can fuck off back to Charming as soon as they like.”  
“Some of them are alright.” Black Widow offered. “That young one you were talking to seems decent.”  
“Juice?” Queenie’s stomach flipped uncontrollably. She cleared her throat to cover it. “He’s only a kid.”  
“So are you, Pres.” Black Widow teased with a laugh. Queenie offered her a laugh in return. “Come on. Best way to deal with men is to get drunk. You, not them.” Black Widow squeezed Queenie’s arm and she nodded.  
“Sounds good.” Queenie agreed as she got to her feet.

Hours passed and before long the Sirens were at ease with the Sons. The night was well and truly closing in now and Queenie and Blue had relaxed into the companionship. They sat at the bar with their stools facing into the room, both reclined backwards on the bar-top with drinks in hand. Sitting with them in a matching position were Tig, Jax and Chibs. The other Sirens and Sons were dotted about getting to know each other. Some of the Siren partners had made the journey too and were joining in. The atmosphere was far more relaxed than it had been. Chibs offered Blue and Queenie a cigarette. Blue accepted and Jax lit it for her.  
“So how long have you been President?” Chibs asked Queenie as she declined his offer.  
“Four years come next month.” Queenie said. “Still early days.”  
“What’s that like, youngest President of an MC ever?” Tig asked. Queenie’s eyes burned into him and he cowered a little.  
“Wouldn’t be the first time I was too young for something.” She said. Tig swallowed and busied himself with his beer so as not to pursue it.  
“I couldn’t have been President at 26.” Chibs said, shaking his head. “You’ve got some balls, lassie.”  
“Don’t I know it.” Queenie said with a giggle.  
“What about you?” Jax asked Blue. “You been VP four years too?”  
Blue finished her drag before replying. “Three. I was in jail for the first year of Queen’s Presidency.”  
“What for?” Chibs asked. Blue shrugged.  
“Beat up a bitch.” She said as though it was nothing.  
Queenie laughed. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Blue hit out at her.  
“You ladies are badass.” Tig commented in admiration. “You all done time?”  
“Only some of us.” Queenie said. “I got it twice. A year and a half for theft. 6 months for prostitution.”  
“I just had the two years.” Blue said.  
“Just.” Chibs chuckled.  
“Who else?” Tig asked as he looked around the bar. Queenie put down her empty bottle as she prepared to recant the tales of her club. She pointed to Black Widow.  
“Black Widow got caught for the same as me, though she got longer because she offered them free services to get outta it.” Blue laughed in acknowledgement. “She got out, then seven years later got done for assaulting a police officer and went in for another two.”  
“Damn.” Tig said admiringly.  
“That was before our time. Lady had just taken us in when Black Widow got out the second time.” She gestured to Phoenix. “Phoenix got patched and almost instantly got arrested for arson. Her ex-boyfriend was stalking her so she flipped out and burnt his house-down as a warning. He wasn’t in it at the time but he made sure she got arrested. She did three years.”  
“She came out and you went in.” Blue added.  
“Oh yeah, I forgot that part.” Queenie chuckled.  
“And then you came out and I went in.” Blue recounted.  
“It sounds like jail relay.” Chibs commented.  
“It was pretty intense for a while. A lot of shit going on, you know.”  
“I hear that.” Tig agreed. “Anyone else?”  
“I think that’s it of current members. Me, Blue, Phoenix and Black Widow.” She counted them on her fingers.  
“Why’s she called Black Widow?” Jax asked.  
“She goes through husbands faster than the White House goes through Presidents.” Blue took a drag as she spoke matter-of-factly.  
“Halen,” Queenie pointed to Black Widow and her old man, “Is the fourth since 1988.”  
“Jesus.” Tig breathed.  
“He’s been on the scene for ten years though. This one seems to have stuck.” Blue shrugged.  
“They all dead?” Jax asked. Queenie nodded. “What happened to them all.”  
“She just knows how to pick’em. Clive was a heart-attack, Ian was an undiagnosed lung condition and Scott…” Queenie frowned as she struggled to remember.  
“Drowned. His boat capsised.” Blue finished for her.  
“Yeah, that’s it.” Queenie agreed.  
“That’s gotta be rough.” Jax frowned.  
“She cashed in on it all so she’s not doing too bad.” Blue shrugged.  
“You guys have got some pretty great names.” Chibs said. “Do you they all have stories?”  
“Blue is pretty self-explanatory.” Queenie jabbed her thumb in Blue’s direction as she spoke. Blue gestured to her hair and her eyes. “As is mine.”  
“Is it?” Jax asked with a frown. Queenie nodded.  
“Your boy Juice worked that one out.”  
“You from Queens?” Tig asked.  
“10 points to Gryffindor.” Queenie replied sarcastically. She pointed to Ginger and Foxy. “Ginger was a ballroom dancer, Foxy is a sly creature with red hair.”  
Blue pointed to the Prospect. “Bonnie’s ex-boyfriend is called Clyde. They were a double-act to be reckoned with until the 49ers took him on.”  
“Angel’s Chinese name translates to angel. Her family were amongst the first Chinese to come over to America in the 1800s.” Queenie explained.  
“Which leaves Phoenix. She likes fire and reinventing herself. You can’t make this shit up.”  
Tig winced. “We should be more imaginative Jax.” He shrugged. “The ladies are winning this one.” Jax laughed and ordered another round.

****

As morning broke activity started stirring in Cherry Pie as the Sons got their gear together to leave. Somehow Juice had ended up spooning Chibs on the floor and now had a black-eye as Chibs had punched him. Bobby had passed out on the couch, Jax on the floor beneath him and Clay on the booth opposite. Tig had found refuge beneath the pool table. Most of the Sirens had gone home in the early hours of the morning. Blue and Queenie had sent Precious and Jasmine home and stayed the night in the apartment behind the bar themselves. Queenie was awake before Blue, her mind reeling with the concept that they might be closer to getting revenge on Veneno. It was going to take her a long time to trust SAMCRO but letting them in was a good start. As Queenie left the bedroom her eyes fell on the photo of Lady in the hall. She put a hand on the glass and frowned. She couldn’t fight the idea that she was betraying the closest thing she had ever had to a Mom, insulting her memory by letting Clay Morrow in.  
“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I gotta.”  
Lady just looked back at her. Queenie swept her long brown hair up into a bun and headed out into the bar where the men were preparing to leave. She raised her eyebrow at Juice’s shiner but didn’t ask as she was approached by Jax.  
“We’re heading off now.” He said, “We’ll be in touch later on to tell you anything we can find out about Veneno.”  
“Thanks Jax.” Queenie said, her eyes falling on Clay. Jax seemed to notice her hesitation, though of course he didn’t know why.  
“He’ll come round to the idea of this partnership.” Jax promised. Queenie nodded.  
“He doesn’t really have a choice.” She said. Jax smiled and set about gathering his belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Guys Do It all the Time - Mindy McCready


	4. Season 1, Episode 2: The Odyssey (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens are called in by the police to help with a burglary-turned-homicide as Corona's resident vigilantes. Queenie and Blue are more than happy to oblige if it means forgetting their interactions with the Sons.

Corona Museum wasn’t a particularly large building, but it was prestigious. It held many important artefacts of Californian history, from Native American tribes right back to the dinosaurs, and everything in-between. Normally a couple of security guards were more than enough to handle anyone who might be looking for trouble. 

Until now. 

Biff and Grant had been the security guards of the Corona Museum for almost ten years. Biff Jarvis was a retired police chief, and Grant Lewis had trained dogs for the K-9 unit until an injury rendered him unable to keep up with them. They had both defected to security and were now getting on in years, but nothing ever happened at Corona Museum. It was just past closing and they stood just inside the front entrance waiting for the last minute stragglers to finish reading the signs and leave. This was a usual development, they were used to there being a few left over. 

“You head home Beth,” Grant said kindly to the curator as she hung around with them. “It’s just a couple of boys. We’ll send them along soon enough.” 

Beth smiled at him. She too was aging in years, and spent most of the time she had in the museum she called her baby. “Alright Grant. Thanks.” And with that she headed out of the door into the growing darkness. 

Grant turned to Biff with a shrug. Biff was sitting in the fold-out chair with the newspaper on his knees. 

“Who knew young boys would find these old artefacts so interesting?” He said. Biff closed his paper and chuckled.

“I certainly wouldn’t have been interested.” Biff replied. “Shall we move them on?”

“Nah. They’ll be gone soon enough. Coffee?” Grant asked, heading in the direction of the staff workroom not far from the entrance.

“Yeah, thanks.” Biff replied, turning back to his paper and losing himself behind it again. The group of three or four young men looking at the El Dorado artefacts glanced over. There were nudges and whispering as they set about their reason for being in the Corona Museum after closing. 

The kettle was left boiling as a concealed knife ripped into the back of Grant’s knee, blood splattering the small kitchen unit and bringing him to his knees as Biff’s cries filled the empty building.

The first thing SiMCCO knew about the murders was a phone call in the early hours of the next morning. Ginger was the nearest to the phone as it rang so she picked up the call. 

“Good morning, Cherry Pie.” She said. Her smile instantly faded to an expression of concern. “Of course chief, I’ll grab her.” She put a hand over the mouthpiece and called over to where Queenie, Blue and Black Widow were reviewing accounts. “Hey gals, it’s the police. Q, they want you.”

“What do they want?” Queenie demanded, instantly on the defensive.

“There’s been a crime they think you might be able to help with.” Ginger shrugged and held out the phone.

Queenie sighed and got to her feet, crossing the bar in a few strides and snatching up the phone. “Why are we gonna be any use? Hello.” Blue, Ginger and Black Widow watched her face turn from placidly indifferent to horror. “No shit.” She said, “Of course. We’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and grabbed her kutte from the bar.

“What did they want?” Blue asked.

“Museum got broken into. Security killed, looks like an execution apparently.”

“Jesus, anything stolen?” Blue demanded.

“Quite a lot of priceless artefacts apparently.” Queenie was already on her way out.

“I always said the security was shit there.” Black Widow shook her head. “You going alone?”

“Blue?” Queenie called from the door. Blue nodded and followed her, used to be being beckoned as such. “Black Widow you’re in charge till we get back. See if you can’t get the ladies doing something useful.”

“Right you are.” Black Widow said with a sigh.

Outside in the parking lot Queenie was already on her bike when Blue caught up.

“You heard anymore from Morrow?” Blue asked now they were alone in the silence before Queenie started her engine.

“Not since they left us for Charming town.” Queenie shrugged, “I’ll be surprised if we ever hear from them again. Pretty boy or not, the VP is the only one I trust.” She started her engine and pulled away as Blue followed thoughtfully. Jax was the only one she trusted too.

The police station was a frequented spot for Siren members. Every single one of them had be previously convicted at some time or another, and when not here as a convict they were here as Corona’s answer to law enforcement. Queenie especially was well known in the station for being the one Chief Wilson called when he was out of his depth – which was most of the time. Queenie often wondered if she’d have gone into the force if she didn’t have a rap sheet... but being a vigilante was much more fun.

“Willy!” She called as she entered the station, “The cavalry is here!” She settled herself opposite his empty desk and put her boots on the desktop as Blue lingered behind her. The both revelled in the looks from the police force who would rather lock them up then listen to their counsel. Queenie winked at the young Latino behind the desk. He was new and he blushed.

“Your libido knows no bounds.” Blue laughed as Wilson came out of the evidence room and shuffled to his desk. He was on the older side of life and had long since needed to learn what retirement felt like, but he paid well and he had years of experience that meant he was respected.

“Get your feet off my desk before I shoot them off.” He grumbled with a push to Queenie’s steel-capped boots. She did as she was told and sat up in the chair.

“You beckoned, we came. What’s this about?” Queenie asked as she leant her elbows on the desk instead. Wilson settled himself in his chair and sighed, pushing a case file towards her. Blue inclined to look as Queenie opened it.

“Double homicide, execution style at the museum last night. As far as we can gather seven items of note were documented missing by Bethany Gable, the head curator, this morning after she called it in.”

“After closing?” Blue asked.

“As far as we can tell. Ms. Gable last saw the two vics - security guards – as she was leaving for the evening.”

“Their families been informed?” Blue asked softly.

“Yeah. It’s a sad day. Biff was ex-force and Grant here worked dogs.” Wilson tapped the photos of the victims, each with a glistening gunshot wound to the head. “A lot of us knew them. Makes it personal, you know. Couple’a years and that could’ve been me.” Wilson rubbed his forehead and sucked his teeth. “Their poor wives. Grant was about to be a granddaddy.” Wilson sniffled and Queenie waited for him to regain his composure. “Sorry.”

“Any suspects?” Queenie asked, back to business.

“Ms Gable said there were four young men who the guards were waiting to leave before closing up. They weren’t causing any trouble.” Wilson added.

“Clearly.” Queenie raised an eyebrow. “It seems this is pretty black and white.” Queenie handed the case file back. “What do you need us for?”

“The thing is, Queenie, we’re just not equipped for this kind of scale. Short of bringing in Sheriffs from state it would take a lot of our strapped manpower to find the perps.” Wilson shrugged. “We were kinda hoping you gals could help us out.”

“What’s in it for us?” Queenie asked. “I’m sorry about the guards an’ all but we’ve got our own...” She stopped as Wilson scribbled a figure on a piece of paper and pushed it towards her. Her eyebrows raised and she showed Blue, who nodded. “I suppose we could take some time out.”

“It would really help us, Queenie.” Wilson said weakly, “I’m not the man I once.”

Queenie held her tongue and held out her hand for the file again. “Your force gonna be okay with this?”

“It’s my decision.” Wilson shrugged as he received death-stares from those behind him. “You gals have gotten us out of some shit in the past. And really, is it any different to hiring the help of private investigators?”

“No, expect for about six year’s worth of training, experience and expertise?” Blue shrugged with folded arms. “And most PIs aren’t convicted felons.”

“These kids,” Queenie was back to business, “the museum got footage?”

“Wiped.” Wilson said, “They knew what they were doing. Ms Gable is the only lead we have. Her witness statement is in the file.”

Queenie flicked through and read what Gable had said. It wasn’t very helpful. “Where does Gable live?” Queenie asked.

“Er,” Wilson hesitated, “I’m not sure she’ll thank a bunch of bikers showing up on the doorstep.”

“No sweat.” Queenie said, getting to her feet, “We’ll call that Plan B. We’ll be in touch.” Wilson stood along with her.

“Thank you, ladies, I really appreciate it.” Wilson removed his hat in gratitude.

“Not sure your force feel the same way.” Blue grinned at the rest of the force who had their eyes narrowed.

“Later.” Queenie saluted them all and headed for the door, Blue on her heels.

They convened at their parked bikes and Blue, holding her helmet, frowned at Queenie who was scanning the file whilst leant against her own bike. “I’m sure there are easier distractions from Veneno.” Blue suggested.

“Probably, but I have rage that I need to vent on some layabout petty thieves.”

“You know you were once a layabout petty thief, right? Went to jail and everything Q.” Blue laughed.

“Exactly. I know what I’m talking about.” Queenie winked.

Blue shook her head but was smiling. “So, oh great thief oracle, what’s the plan?”

“We talk to this Gable chick.” Queenie shrugged as though it were obvious, putting the file in her pannier and fastening her helmet.

“But Chief didn’t give us an address.”

“Don’t need one.” Queenie said. “Scene of the crime, baby. Gable’ll be back, she’ll want to know her museum is okay.” She stuck out her tongue and mounted her bike as Blue nodded in realisation.

“God you’re good.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Queenie kickstarted the engine and pulled away with Blue close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's taken me so long to post! Episode 2 has been in the works for a long time, it's just proving difficult when I've jumped the gun and written later episodes first.  
> Hopefully this episode provides a little insight into Queenie's past.
> 
> Soundtrack of the chapter: Stayin' Alive - Say Lou Lou


	5. Season 1, Episode 2: The Odyssey (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation of the burglary-turned-homicide brings back ghosts of Queenie's past.

Black Widow wasn’t happy. “What do you mean you’re taking the case? In case you hadn’t noticed, Queenie, you’re not a police officer and you’re never gonna be with your record.”

“Wow Black Widow,” Queenie replied sarcastically, “How could I never realise that?” She rolled her eyes at Blue who was listening to the conversation on speakerphone.

Black Widow looked around at the rest of the Sirens who were listening in in a similar ilk. They were torn between laughing at Queenie and realising Queenie really needed to be here.

“Which one of us is President?” Queenie continued.

“You are.” Black Widow huffed.

“Which one of us makes the decisions?”

“You do. But Queenie...” Black Widow continued.

“Look, you and the ladies keep working on Veneno. They haven’t reached out to us so we got no idea when they’re next going to strike with their poisoned fangs. See if we can find a pattern or something that’s going to tell us. Make yourselves useful, Blue and I’ll be back before you know it. _With_ extra dosh for the club. That oughta make you happy, madam secretary. Comprende?”

“Comprende.” Black Widow glowered.

There was a pause.

“Do you want Phoenix?”

“Nah, this won’t take long. I got no need for a guard dog today.”

Queenie hung up on her. She knew she wasn’t happy but then she didn’t really care. Black Widow and Queenie had a love/hate relationship that she couldn’t get into right now, and she knew the offer to send Phoenix was so Phoenix would feedback to Black Widow. Phoenix had always had a torn loyalty within the club. She loved and doted on Queenie, but Black Widow had nominated her as a prospect. She was torn.

“How long d’you reckon until Black Widow stages a coo?” Blue chewed the toothpick between her teeth with her arms folded.

“You mean she hasn’t already?” Queenie asked in sarcastic shock. Blue giggled.

“You’re particularly rebellious today. Don’t forget how long Black Widow has been a Siren.”

“Yeah I know, I know. Since the beginning. I know she’s all that’s left of the first wave I just...” Queenie folded her own arms, “She gets on my nerves. Have you not noticed she second guesses everything I say and do? It’s like she’s doing it just to piss me off sometimes. When I invited the Sons round? She had something to say. When we took part in that heist to help out the police? She had something to say. Every single time she has something to say. If she wanted to make decisions so bad she should have put her name forward as president.” Queenie grumbled.

“Er, Q...” Blue cocked her eyebrow, “She did.”

“Shit.” Queenie remembered.

“Lady thought she was too volatile, remember?” Blue sucked her lips. “And then she picked you... the most stable.”

“Shut up.” Queenie rolled her eyes. “I’m more stable than you.”

“And Black Widow, I’ll give you that.”

“Exactly. Have I done the club wrong?”

“Well, no...” Blue shrugged.

“Have I done the club right over and over?”

“I’d say so.”

“And that is why you are my VP.” Queenie smiled gratefully at Blue.

“So what’s the plan?” Blue shivered slightly inside her jacket. “How long do we wait?”

“Not long.” Queenie squinted down the street. “I wouldn’t want to leave it too long before I returned if I were this chick.”

Sure enough, twenty minutes later and a car turned down the street to park in front of the museum. Queenie and Blue had left their bikes around the side of the building, slightly concealed by hedgework.

It didn’t take long until Gable to climb out of her car and show her face, and it was a mask of fear as Queenie and Blue pushed themselves off their resting bikes and approached. Blue skittered her cigarette butt into the gutter and emptied her mouth of smoke. They were both slight but very intimidating if they chose to be, especially whilst wearing their colours. 

“Beth Gable?” Queenie removed her sunglasses to the setting sun and held out her hand for Gable to shake cautiously.

“Erm, yes.” Gable looked at them fearfully.

“My name is Queenie, this is Blue. We’re helping the Chief out with the crime.”

“You’re Sirens.” Gable stammered as she looked to their kuttes.

“Well observed.” Blue replied. “Is that a problem?”

“What my VP means,” Queenie shot her a look, “Is Chief Wilson is a good friend of ours and in this particular case he thinks our... expertise... might come in helpful.” Queenie shrugged. She was soft-spoken and there was something in her demeanour that put people at ease. Changing like a chameleon was her superpower. It’s why she was President, why she was good at what she did.

“W... what do you want to know?” Gable asked. “I already told the Chief...”

“We know you’ve already given a statement.” Queenie said, “But we were hoping we could hear it from you. No protocol, no nothing. Just your words. Woman to woman.” Queenie winked at her, “Can you do that? We’re helping out the case, you see, have a little more influence and wiggle-room on the streets than the popo.”

Gable sized her up for a while, taking in her earnest smile and her warm eyes.

“Er, yes.” Gable eventually nodded and Blue shook her head at Queenie, amazed.

“Are we allowed inside? CSI did their thing already, right?” Queenie continued.

Gable nodded and led the way hypnotically to the front door. Queenie glanced at Blue and followed the woman up the steps.

Queenie and Blue had visited the museum a few times with Lady as teenagers, part of her attempt to educate them. It had not changed much, save for the smashed glass and counters.

“Were these guys known to you or the guards?” Blue asked as they stepped over some of the police tape that had blown down when the door had opened. Blue wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to be here, but then they had been appointed by the police, so really they couldn’t say shit. Even if Queenie’s methods were unorthodox.

“No ma’am.” Gable replied to her.

“They give any names?” Blue asked. Queenie liked playing cop but Blue couldn’t lie that she did too. When both of them had been in and out of the system like they had they learnt a trick or two.

“No ma’am.”

“You not got a system for documenting guests and stuff?” Blue raised an eyebrow.

“Er...” Gable looked confused.

“That’d be a no.” Queenie concluded. “What did they look like?”

“Who?” Gable seemed a rabbit in headlights.

“The perps.” Blue replied.

“I didn’t fully see them. There were three or four of them. Two were tall,” She dropped her voice to a whisper, “Asian,” and raised it again, “And covered in tattoos.”

“How do you not know if three or four?” Blue cocked her eyebrow again. It was pierced and made a statement when she did so.

“Two of them looked the same, I guess.”

“What kind of tattoos?” Queenie asked.

“Er, I didn’t really see.” Gable shrugged. “One had a dragon though.” She gestured at her temple.

“Curved around his face?” Blue asked. Gable nodded. Queenie and Blue exchanged glances. They knew who they were dealing with alright.

“Thanks, Gable.” Queenie said. “We’ve got we need.”

“Y... you do?” Gable looked between them, but Queenie had already started walking back to the door. “What about the stuff they took?” Blue gave Gable an apologetic look, looking around the museum.

“What was it?”

“I documented it.” Gable pulled a notebook out and ripped off the first page, holding it out to Blue. “After the police asked me this morning. I was gonna call it in, but...”

“We’ve got this.” Blue took it from her. “Thanks.”

“B! Let’s move it out!” Queenie called from outside. Blue gave Gable a promising smile and followed.

Gable watched them go, feeling slightly stunned. She knew the Sirens were the vigilantes of Corona, but who they were really aiming to help was a whole new ballgame. As far as Gable knew the Sirens were only out for themselves. But then it was well-known they had chased all drug use from their small town, targeting the Veneno gang until all narcotics were gone. That also meant they could control more than people gave them credit for. And that was scary.

“What’s that?” Queenie asked as she looked to the note.

“List of missing items.” Blue handed it over. “This is what we’re looking for. You know who done this?”

“I got a hunch.” Queenie scanned the list. “That dragon tattoo? Who does that sound like to you?”

“Colt.” Blue nodded.

“Me and him got history. If he’s back in town...” Queenie blew out through her lips. “He’s got another think coming.”

“You really wanna stir all that pot again, Q?” Blue asked cautiously. “You know what happened last time?”

“Do we have a choice? We need the money to fight Veneno. Cherry Pie and drunk bitches ain’t gonna cut it.”

“Alright.” Blue said cautiously. “I just... I don’t want you to go to jail again.”

Queenie gave Blue a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, Blue. I’m not a kid anymore. He can’t break me this time. I’m the President.” She mounted her bike and kicked it into gear, slipping the list into her kutte and pulling on her helmet.

Blue mounted her own bike and shook her head at Queenie. She talked a good game but Blue could tell from her face she was scared. Colt was bad news, and if he was back it would bring all the dark memories flooding back.

**2001**

“Capone, Aurora, here for processing.” The warden pushed Queenie forward so that she stumbled on her ankle cuffs.

“Easy, would ya? I’m not a piece of meat.” Queenie spat at her. The warden proceeded to smack her across the back of the head.

“The sooner you drop the attitude the sooner we’ll get along.” The warden warned. “You’re not queen here, you got me? You’re not even the dirt on their shoes.”

Queenie glowered at her but said nothing more. This was not the first time she had done time, but it _was_ the first time she had done it in an adult prison. She was terrified, and acting up was her way of dealing it. She knew it wouldn’t fly here and so she physically bit her lip to stop her retaliating. The warden was trying to help in her very big-dick way of doing it.

Queenie was shown to her cell, a single hold for the first few weeks whilst she learnt the rules. The court case had been swift. There was no denying she was guilty when the objects were found on her person, and even Lady’s connections in Corona couldn’t get her free before she served another fifteen months. No sooner had the warden locked the door and left the vicinity then the inmates crowded the window. They were on rec-room time and decided to spend it checking out the fresh meat. They were all terrifying prospects to say the least: skin-heads, face-tattoos, empty piercings, all squashing their plump faces in the window. Queenie sat herself down on her bunk facing the door, the pile of blankets to her side. She took a deep breath, knowing her eyeliner was over her face and her hair was messed up from her arrest, and looked at the bitches in the window, offering them a wan smile.

“She’s pretty.” One of them said.

“She’ll look prettier in my bunk.” said another in a hungry voice. Queenie was used to this. It was all she had received in the juvenile hall where she had served six months.

“Hey toots, you got a name.”

“Yeah.” Queenie replied. “It’s fuck you.”

“You can fuck me anytime baby.” One of them replied.

“She’s a New Yorker!” The predatory butch said excitedly. “We all know how much I love an Italian sandwich.”

“You want my fist in that?” Queenie responded to a cat-calling response.

“You know you gotta make friends in here, right?” One of them asked.

“I’ll be your friend.” Predatory butch replied. “We’ll keep each other warm.”

They suddenly scattered as a warden cried out. Queenie sighed heavily and lay down on the bunk. If this was her choice she wasn’t going to last the year. She didn’t want to have to do what she had done in juvie hall but it was beginning to feel like she didn’t have a choice. She cursed herself for the millionth time in three months for falling for Colt’s charms. Strong manipulative men had always been her weakness. She vowed in that moment: no more. She was done with Colt, she was done with letting men get the better of her. Twice now she had ended up behind bars and once had ended up pregnant. No more.

She just had to survive butch and her comrades. She needed allies on the inside and she needed them soon. If only Lady would hurry.

**2008**

“Hello?!” Blue urged.

Queenie snapped out of her memories and looked to her VP. “Sorry.”

They were leaning against where they had parked their bikes off the side of the main road through Corona. This was farming area but most of the shacks and trailers were now used for drugs and criminal operations.

“Are you gonna be able to do this?” She looked up the long track that led to Colt’s trailer. Queenie had been here many times but it had been empty for years. Colt had moved on after he had served time. If he was back it meant trouble for Corona.

“Course.” Queenie said, setting off down the dirt track before she could stop herself. 

“If you want to leave we can tell the police...”

“The fuck are they gonna do?” Queenie asked. “Colt’s been doing this shit for years and Willy ain’t never done anything about it. He needs to be taught a lesson.”

“And you need to get your revenge?” Blue suggested, keeping in pace beside Queenie.

“No.” Queenie said innocently, but her green eyes flashed in a way Blue recognised.

“Queenie... should we call for back-up?” Blue hesitated.

Queenie stopped to look at her. She knew she was right, but the idea of vengeance was clouding her mind. She sighed.

“If we call for back-up that means I got to dig up all the past. You know Black Widow barely accepts me as a leader already. If we remind her I went to jail for dick she’ll lose any respect she has for me.”

“Black Widow respects you, Q.” Blue shook her head.

“Because she has to. Given the choice you and I both know she would stage a coo.” Queenie folded her arms inside her leather jacket.

“That aside,” Blue partly understood where Queenie was coming from. Black Widow was professional but they both knew she didn’t like Queenie, “We don’t know what we’re facing here. If this is Colt he could have who knows how many men working for him, how many women he’s manipulated.”

“That’s where we have the advantage now.” Queenie said with a smile. “Any wayward woman in this town is already on our payroll.” She grinned her lipsticked grin.

“Even so.” Blue said sensibly. “Queen, you know how much I want to help you get revenge on this dickwad for what he did to you, but that’s not the way to go about things. We’re diplomats now. We got no choice if we’re going to keep running this damn town.”

Queenie sucked her teeth thoughtfully and nodded, with a sigh. “Okay, here’s the plan. Send a message to Phoenix or Foxy. Tell them where we are and if they don’t hear from us in another hour to get their hides down here with a full compliment.”

“And Willy?”

“Nah. He doesn’t need to put his ancient ticker in the firing line.” Queenie said. She looked down the last half of the dirt track to where they could clearly see the run-down shack. “Colt and me got history. This is personal.”

Blue pulled out her cell and sent the message Queenie had dictated. She pocketed her cell again and, with a nod from Queenie, both of them reached into their holsters to check their guns were loaded. Then, with the magazine confirmed, continued their trek to the front door.

**2001**

“Psst. Q.”

Queenie looked up from where she was determined to ignore everyone and anyone who tried to taunt her. Butch had tried and failed more than once to get her alone, but thankfully the showers in this prison locked. It was only a matter of time before she tried in the rec room but, for all their faults, at least the rec room was heavily occupied with wardens. It felt militant but for once Queenie was grateful.

The woman she was looking at now wasn’t one she recognised. She was mid to late forties, copper, her hair in plaits and heavy smuggled kohl around her eyes. Her face and arms were covered in tattoos. 

“Can I help you?”

“Lady wants you to know you’re not alone.” The woman said. She spoke so quietly that she barely opened her mouth. Queenie frowned and then nodded, giving her permission to sit opposite her.

“My name is Cookie.” She said, holding out her hand. Queenie shook it briefly before the wardens could catch them.

“Queenie.” She said. “Though I imagine you know that.”

“I do. Lady and I go way back. Since Charming.” Cookie sat down in the offered seat. Queenie frowned at her.

“Charming?”

“Yeah. Old lady’s together.”

“Really?” Queenie was intrigued by this woman. She vaguely recognised her features as though she had seen a long lost photo of her.

“Lenny?”

“The Pimp?” Queenie raised an impressed eyebrow. “He’s in Stockton too, ain’t he?”

“He is. I see him sometimes across the rec yard. We went down together.” Cookie smiled at memories. “Murder in the first degree.” She showed Queenie her murder tattoos. Queenie was both impressed and scared. “Wish I’d chosen a different path, but here we are. The Sirens would have saved my life, I’m sure.”

“I’m sorry.” Queenie said.

“Be grateful you’ve got Lady, kid. She’s never once forsaken me, so when she asked me to look out for you I knew I had to. One thing she always wanted was a kid.”

“She got a handful of us.”

“So I’ve heard. She’s turned into a regular Mother Theresa in my absence, taking in all the strays.” Cookie chuckled in a wheezy way. “What did you go down for?”

“Theft.” Queenie shrugged.

“Of all the things?!” Cookie whooped with laughter that made the entire rec room look over. Queenie bristled.

“Hey, I tried to abide the law alright. I’m no murderer.”

“Yet.” Cookie chuckled.

“You say that like its inevitable.”

“Not inevitable. Not if you choose not to kill. Not if you don’t ally yourself with the Sons of Anarchy.”

“Believe me.” Queenie rolled her eyes, “I will not do that. The Sons can stay in Charming for all I’m concerned.”

“Sounds like you got your own problems here. How long did you get?”

“Eighteen months.”

“What did you steal?” Cookie chuckled again.

Queenie was beginning to get annoyed at her laughing at everything. “Broke into a jewellers.”

“Just fancied some bling?”

“My boy...” She stopped herself, “I knew someone who was going to sell it on.”

“Ah. That makes it clearer.” Cookie nodded.

“What does?”

“I’ve been thinking to myself: you’ve got the Sirens, you have steady income, it’s not like you need the money. You don’t seem like you’re on drugs. Now it makes sense, you did it for a boy.”

“Yeah, well. It’s over and I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Famous last words.” Cookie grinned.

“Look, are you here to help me or frustrate me because right now it’s the latter.” Queenie grumbled.

“I can see why Lady likes you.” Cookie chuckled, “I see a lot of her in you.”

Queenie blinked at her. That alone was the highest compliment she had ever been given.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cookie nodded. “Stick with me kid. You’ll be out of here in no time. Just stay away from Butch and her gang of skinheads and you won’t get your time extended for murdering someone.” She winked in a way that made Queenie feel Cookie had firsthand experience.

**2008**

As Queenie and Blue reached the front door of the shack there was no denying Colt was involved. Everywhere they looked there was references to dragons, gold or things that he had stolen. Colt had always had an affinity for all things shiny. He had believed himself to be descended from dragons back then and it seemed things had not changed.

“Do we just knock?” Blue asked.

Queenie looked up at the security camera above their heads. “Why not? He already knows we’re here.”

Sure enough no sooner had she knocked on the fragile wooden door then it flung open and Queenie was faced with the man who had made her who she was today.

He had aged a little but he was nonetheless still handsome, his black hair a little longer, the dragon on his face just as prominent and his narrowed eyes even narrower with suspicion.

“The Queen returns.” He said drily. "It's about time." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Jailhouse Rock - Elvis Presley)


	6. Season 1, Episode 2: The Odyssey (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie faces her past incarnate as she and Blue strive to rid Corona of another threat, but it seems Queenie's past will not leave her alone.

Queenie looked Colt up and down, laying eyes on him for the first time in years. She put her hands on her hips.

“Didn’t know you still did house calls?” Colt teased. His real name was Erik Chao but he had changed his name to Colt when he had started running stolen goods. He was half-Chinese, with a real dad he never saw and a step-dad he never spoke about. Queenie only knew that because they had been a couple for more than a year. She had well and truly fallen for his charms and had paid the price for it. His brown eyes sparkled maliciously. He hadn’t even looked to Blue.

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d left Corona.” Queenie said.

“Ah, that’s why you and your little guard dog are here?” Colt grinned. He had a gold grill over his teeth, filed to look like fangs.

“Cool it, Colt.” Queenie said. “Blue is not now and never has been my guard dog. I don’t need a guard dog. She’s here as a witness.”

“To what?”

“Citizens arrest.” Queenie folded her arms and shrugged. She wasn’t entirely serious, but a danger flashed over her eyes, the likes of which Colt had never seen.

Colt hesitated, then shook his head.

“I’d like to see you try.” Colt laughed. “You want to come in and talk or we doing this whole thing on the front porch?”

Queenie glanced at Blue and back to Colt. “I suppose we could spare a drink.”

Queenie shot Blue’s horrified expression a ‘trust me’ look and then stepped over the threshold.

Inside Colt’s house was no different to the outside. The dragon theme continued throughout. Every surface was covered in stolen goods. It looked like Colt had been hitting Corona for weeks. Everything from hi-fis to laptops to actual gold jewellery. But the piece-de-resistance stood in the middle of the living room that opened directly from the front door. The stolen artefacts from the museum were laid out on the coffee table. Sitting around, the smell of marijuana heavy in the air, were three of Colt’s companions. Two looked the same, twins aside from the difference in tattoos on their forearms. They were tall, burly and dressed like they had robbed GAP. These were the two who had confused Gable. The third man was leaning against the window and looked about fourteen.

“Fellas, you know of my ex-girlfriend.”

“Bro, you tapped that?” One of the twins said, impressed, as Colt shut the front door. Blue kept her hands in her jacket, her arms folded and her thumb caressing her gun in case she needed it.

“For a whole year.” Colt shrugged as Queenie glared at him. “Would have been longer if you hadn’t gone to jail, right, Q.” He winked at her in a way that made Queenie bristle.

“I see you’re out of the practice of getting young women to do your bidding.” Queenie glanced to the men. “Gullible women are in short supply in this town, I’m sure you’ve found since you returned.”

“That your doing?” Colt asked darkly. He glanced at Queenie’s kutte. “Still playing biker?”

Queenie set her jaw. Blue felt sick. She hadn’t liked Colt then and she definitely did not want to start now. Instead she scanned the small shack and her eyes fell on the pistols on the kitchen surface: the ones that had been used to murder the poor security guards. It was like they wanted to get caught. More than ever Blue felt they should have just called the police. Being here was every bit as dangerous because of what it would dig up for Queenie, and Blue had seen her lose her shit. It would never end well for anyone. 

“Take your shit and get out of Corona, Colt.” Queenie said. It wasn’t a question, it was a warning.

“I can’t do that.” Colt took a step closer to Queenie, who stood her ground.

“Why not?”

“One of my followers can’t leave Corona.” Colt said. Queenie frowned at him and glanced around the room. “It’s a violation of her parole.”

Queenie’s eyes widened and her heart pounded as she looked at him. Blue looked between them and then at the men, her grip tightening on her gun. Queenie seemed frozen to the spot, shaking her head minutely.

Then, as if in answer, a door to the left of them opened and the face of the last person Queenie ever wanted to see again appeared.

“I believe you two have met.” Colt said with a smirk, enjoying playing with Queenie like food.

**2002**

Having Cookie on side had proved to be helpful in the months Queenie had served. Butch and her gang had tried and failed to pin Queenie down, but Cookie was big momma of the cell block. Queenie was off limits and everyone knew it. More than once fist-fights had broken out as Butch tried to get to Queenie. More than once Butch and her gang had ended up in the hospital wing.

Now Queenie had only two months left of her sentence and she was beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel. Trying to keep Butch at bay was keeping her mind occupied and training for the inevitable fight was keeping her in shape. She had decided as soon as she was out she would fight to get Cookie’s sentence reduced where she could as a thank you for providing her with the type of motherly companionship she had only ever known from Lady.

That was until the fight that changed everything.

It was during evening rec that Butch let herself into Queenie’s cell before Queenie or Cookie could do anything about it. She must have struck a deal with the warden in charge of opening the cells as she suddenly appeared behind Queenie, wrapping her arms around Queenie’s neck and body tightly from behind and breathing in her hair deeply.

“Finally. Alone at last.” Butch ran her finger over Queenie’s cheek.

“What the fuck is your obsession?” Queenie snarled. “This is a place full of pussy, why have you obsessed about mine for a year and a half?”

“What can I say?” Butch said, “You caught my interest.”

“Well lose it, dyke.” Queenie tried to struggle but her grip was a vice, “I don’t swing that way.”

“I can be persuasive.” Butch threw Queenie down onto the bed so she cracked her head against the wall. The room span as she felt Butch on top of her, scrabbling at her jail issued pants. Queenie kicked and punched out. She had been through this in Juvie, she wasn’t going to go through it now. “You need to learn a lesson...” Butch snarled, but a crack to her jaw sent her sprawling to the floor as Queenie made contact. Queenie took the opportunity to reach for the Bible in her alcove, opening it to the carved out middle where she kept the shiv Cookie had made her. As Butch made to stand, her face that of an angered bull, Queenie dug the shiv into her thigh and hurried past, pulling open the still unlocked door and heading out into the corridor of the second floor cell block. She needed to find Cookie or one of the allies. With a cry like a wounded lion Butch wrenched open the cell door and followed her.

Queenie stood her ground, her fists raised. The shiv was still sticking out of Butch’s bloodsoaked thigh as she barrelled towards Queenie. She was about to reach her and pin her against the wall when Queenie landed another crack to the cheek and Butch was dragged backwards by Cookie. By now the shouts of Butch were drawing the warden’s attention and they were running across the rec room to break up the fight. Queenie could only watch as Cookie and Butch engaged in fisticuffs, blows landing left and right.

Then, with a cry and before the wardens could do anything, the shiv from Butch’s thigh found its way into Cookie’s eye. She cried out with a scream and Butch turned to Queenie, who was watching, desperate and horrified, as Butch held Cookie against the balcony railings.

“Why are you doing this?!” Queenie demanded, “All for pussy?”

“Don’t you get it?” Butch snarled. “Don’t you see the family resemblance?” She smirked as she pushed Cookie over the rails to the cement stone below.

“No!” Queenie shrieked. The wardens had stopped at Cookie’s crumpled body, looking up at the fight as Queenie launched herself at Butch. She could see the family resemblance alright, she knew exactly why Butch had been so obsessed with her.

**2008**

“Butch.” Queenie breathed as the scarred face of her nemesis appeared.

“I believe you’ve met my half-sister.” Colt stepped back as Queenie turned to face Butch.

“Pussy.” Butch grinned.

Queenie, reliving the flashback of her time with Butch in prison, launched at Butch. Butch was ready for her and they grappled, falling back into the bedroom that Butch had emerged from.

Colt’s men got to their feet to help but Blue pulled her gun and pointed it at them. “How about we all just stay calm.” She said. “It seems they’ve got a score to settle.” She looked at Colt.

“One gun? For four of us.” Colt laughed. “I think you’re dreaming sweetheart.” He smirked and, in one movement, launched at the gun on the side. Blue shot at his wrist and hit her target, causing him to crash into the sink in pain. She stood above him and recocked.

“Nobody calls me sweetheart, you piece of shit.” She pointed her gun at him but a shot rang past her ear from one of the twins she had turned her back on. She shot him clean in the chest and he fell back into the pile of priceless artefacts.

In the chaos none of them heard the engines outside before Phoenix kicked open the door and entered, guns blazing, alongside Foxy, Angel, Black Widow and Ginger swarmed in after them. In no time at all the remaining men had been shot down by the Sirens and Blue stood, panting, over Colt. She had him by the collar and her gun to his temple.

“Good timing, as always.” Blue said to the Sirens. She turned to Colt. “Queenie should have the joy of finishing you, you sorry piece of shit.”

“Where’s Q?” Angel asked, looking around. The sounds of punches and grunting coming from the bedroom answered her.

Inside the small bedroom Queenie was launched into the shelving units. In the last six years of maximum security Butch had been working out and Queenie had grown weak in her domesticity. She wiped the blood from her mouth and remembered the last time she had seen this bitch.

**2002**

Queenie landed a punch to Butch’s shivved thigh and she crumpled in pain, allowing Queenie push her up against the wall.

“You son of a bitch!” She shrieked, “I hope you get the chair for what you just did!”

“Cookie had it coming.” Butch said through her bleeding mouth. “Just like you have it coming. Colt’s waited a long time to get to you, you bitch.”

They could hear the wardens on the stairs behind them, hurrying up to stop the fight.

Queenie shut up her smart mouth by smashing her head against the wall with all the strength she could muster. It wasn’t enough to kill her, but her unconscious body slid to the floor as Queenie was pulled away by the wardens.

**2008**

Queenie found herself in a chokehold before she could gather her senses.

“I’ve waited six years to do this.” Butch snarled in her ear, pinning her front to the wall and pressing her body against hers. “Colt always used to talk about how good you were in bed, how much you learnt from your time as a prosititute. You’ve denied me a taste for so long.”

“Colt always was a liar.” Queenie threw her head back and heard Butch’s nose break as she stumbled backwards. “I should have killed your sorry ass for what you did but I was too chicken.” She turned to where Butch was spread-eagled on the bed, her face pissing blood. “I’m not a chicken anymore.” She tapped her ‘Maelstrom’ flash.

“Kitty grew claws in her time out of the clink.” Butch wiped her mouth. “Where did the meak pushover go?”

“She died with Cookie.” Queenie spat at Butch. Butch swung her leg and knocked Queenie to the floor.

“Cookie deserved what I did. Surely your two months in solitary gave you time to reflect on that? She was manipulative and, I’ll tell you something,” Butch put her foot on Queenie’s throat. “Every bit as tasty as I bet you would be.” She peeled back her jacket and pulled out a 6-inch knife, the blade glistening in the light. “Don’t worry,” Butch grinned, “I’m sure you’re just as good dead. I’m not picky.” She raised the blade...

And fell backwards as Queenie emptied her barrel of eight bullets into her chest. Butch’s limp form smashed into the wall, blood painting the grimy cream walls as she slid down to the floor. The door opened and half of the Sirens appeared at the sound of gunshots. Queenie wiped the blood from her own face as Foxy and Ginger hauled her to her feet and Blue took the gun from her.

“So that’s Butch?” Blue said. “I always wondered.”

Queenie responded by spitting at the glassy-eyed corpse.

“That...” Black Widow’s eyebrow twitched, “is what killed Cookie?”

Queenie nodded slowly. Black Widow shot another bullet into Butch’s corpse in retribution. “I liked Cookie. She would have made a great Siren.”

“Speaking of...” Queenie turned suddenly to her club. “What the fuck are you all doing here?”

Blue opened her mouth to explain but they were stopped by the sound of the door slamming and one of the engines starting outside.

“Son of a bitch!” Blue shouted as they all ran back into the bloodstained shack and out to the yard where Colt was speeding away on a stolen bike.

“That’s my fucking bike!” Ginger threw a rock after Colt but he was long gone. Ginger rounded on Bonnie who was picking herself up from the floor. “What the fuck prospect!”

“He punched me in the jaw.” Bonnie rubbed her cheek as Ginger let her have it in the form of words and punches.

“Stop Ginger from killing Bonnie.” Queenie said warily to Phoenix as she turned back into the house. Phoenix, Angel and Foxy pulled Ginger off Bonnie. Black Widow and Blue followed Queenie inside.

“I had to get them here, Q.” Blue said quietly.

“I know, I’m glad you did.” Queenie replied just as quietly. Black Widow poked the artefacts with her foot.

“This what we’re looking for?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Queenie raised her voice. “We should get them to Willy.”

Black Widow nodded and stooped to pick them up. She hesitated as she picked up the young boy’s wrist to move it. “Q.” She said, holding it up for Queenie to see.

Tattooed on the young boy’s wrist, plain as day, was the cobra of Veneño.

“Colt is working with Veneño.” Black Widow spat.

“That’ll be where he’s trading stolen shit for gold.” Blue kicked one of the corpses bitterly.

“Motherfucker.” Queenie punched the wall, hard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t just kill him.” Blue said.

Queenie was too angry to answer. “Black Widow, get all the stolen shit out to the bikes. Ginger will have to ride with Angel. Get this shit to the station, we’ll meet you back at Atlantis.”

“What are you going to do?” Black Widow asked suspiciously.

“Torch this place.” Queenie said. “If Colt wants to come back he’ll have to find some other shit heap to live in.” She crossed to the cupboards and began pulling out anything she could find that would act as accelerant.

Black Widow and the Sirens made short work of emptying the house of stolen goods and, Ginger still swearing at Bonnie, headed for the police station.

Blue leant against the bedroom frame as she watched Queenie cover Butch’s body with vodka and then swig from the bottle.

“How much of this could have been avoided?” Blue asked.

“Save it.” Queenie spat, smashing the bottle on the corpse. “I know I let my passion get the better of me.”

Blue shrugged. “If you ask me the bitch had it coming. And you had to do it.” Blue sighed as she offered Queenie her lighter. “Killing is inevitable in this line of work.”

Queenie blinked at her, the lighter in her hand.

_“Not inevitable. Not if you choose not to kill. Not if you don’t ally yourself with the Sons of Anarchy.”_

Queenie remembered Cookie’s words with bitter resentment as she set alight Butch’s corpse. She had moved on from that chapter of her life but, as everything, her past haunted her. She followed Blue out of the house as the drapes caught on fire and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. They faced a long walk to the road and their bikes and Queenie did not look forward to the silence that weighed heavy in the air. As much as she tried to leave her past behind it kept finding a way to catch up. She had grown a lot over the last six years but her journey still seemed far from over, her odyssey far from complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with Sirens! I promise the Sons of Anarchy will be back soon, but these first few episodes I wanted to get a feel for the Sirens alone without the men. I hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> Soundtrack of the chapter: Bad Blood - Taylor Swift


	7. Season 1, Episode 3: Drown in Desire (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens, whilst still facing the Veneno threat, have to deal with a club problem closer to home when Bonnie, the prospect, volunteers them as a legal team. Secrets of Blue's past are dug up by events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter:

Franklin Street was a quiet suburb just inside the Corona border. It was where the well-to-do lived, the lawyers and doctors and their pristine wives with their pristine hedges like something out of Desperate Housewives. It was a place where everybody knows everybody and they’d call to each other over their hedges as they got their mail in the morning. Nothing was ever untodo here. The rabble were just not permitted to move in on the street. The worst thing that went on here was forgetting to return a cup of sugar. It certainly wasn’t a place you’d expect to hear of a homicide.

Yet it was to Franklin Street that the police cars came screaming just after midnight, pulling up outside Number 14 in alarming panic. 

Number 14 was owned by Mr and Mrs Levine. They were not an old couple, still fairly young, though they had not been graced with children. He was a schoolteacher and she worked at the dentist office as a hygienist. They were a warm and loving couple who never got into trouble. 

The well-to-do neighbours stood in their front windows in their nightgowns as they watched the armed officers head into the house. They watched as an ambulance backed up to the path and a stretcher was unloaded. They watched as, twenty minutes later, a body-bag was wheeled out on the stretcher followed by… This was the biggest shock, as the young and beautiful upstanding Mrs Levine was led out in handcuffs by the police officers and pushed into the back of a car. She had tear tracks down her face through her thick make-up and what appeared to be blood on her pale pink pyjamas. 

No-one on Franklin Street got much sleep that night. 

****

Queenie called silence in Church by throwing a heavy pillowcase on the table-top as soon as she entered. The Sirens around the table fell silent as she opened it. 

“Our spoils, ladies.” She said, pulling out two fistfuls of cash. There was a collective gasp of pleasure.

“The fuzz paid out?” Phoenix said, as she and Blue unpacked the notes and put them on the table in front of Black Widow for her to distribute. “But Colt got away?”

Queenie bristled. “We returned the goods to the museum and they have an APB out on Colt. We did our part.” Queenie sat triumphantly in the President’s seat, one knee cocked over the arm in her tight leather pants. “It pays to be friends with the force.” Her ringed fingers stroked the gavel. “I know some of you were reluctant…” She stared down Black Widow, “It makes you nervous to be in bed with the boys in brown, I get it. But sometimes it’s necessary. If we’re ever going to stand a chance at defeating Veneño we need to do what we can.” 

“It certainly pays well.” Ginger chimed in. 

“For very little work.” Angel added. “What’s a couple of thugs no-one’s gonna miss?”

“This time.” Phoenix said darkly. She was watching Queenie carefully. “What about next time when they want us to help with something bigger than theft?”

“I don’t think it gets much bigger than theft and homicide.” Blue added. Queenie shrugged in agreement. “Certainly not to the families of those guards.”

Phoenix hung her head from Blue’s dark stare.

“We’ll put it to a vote next time. I’m not gonna do anything without yous guys and your support. I let my passion and my past dictate my mind this time and I am sorry.” Queenie said, straightening herself up in the chair. “Especially to Ginger. How’s the new bike search going?”

“Being delivered on Tuesday.” Ginger grumbled with a glare to Bonnie. “Won’t be the same.”

There was laughter around the table.

“Maybe next time don’t leave the keys in it.” Foxy pushed Ginger gently, but Ginger bristled.

Queenie banged her gavel to call order. “So, what’s next.” She looked around in anticipation. “Who’s got any other business? Short of tracking Veneño we don’t got much else to do around here.”

There was a pause and then Bonnie raised her hand at the bottom of the table.

“Bonnie.” Queenie opened her hands and pulled a face. “If no one else has got anything to talk about, go ahead.” It was looking very unlikely that Bonnie would ever get patched if she kept making stupid mistakes.

“Er…” Bonnie started, running her hands through her blonde hair nervously. “Well, I…” She paused as they all looked at her. “I got a call this mornin’ from my cousin. She lives out on Franklin.”

Angel whistled impressedly. “You didn’t tell us you were loaded, prospect.”

“She is. She married Jewish.”

“Mazal tov.” Blue said, to everyone’s amusement.

“Well. He died three nights ago. She’s in jail, bail is at $100,000.” The Siren’s whistled. “She’s their only suspect.” 

“Did she do it?” Phoenix asked.

Bonnie’s jaw clenched. “I… I don’t know.” 

“What do you fuzz think?” Blue asked, lighting a cigarette and sitting back in her chair.

“That she did.” Bonnie frowned, her delicately plucked eyebrows knitting together. “Or else she wouldn’t be in the clink.”

“So why you tellin’ us?” Foxy asked. “We can’t spring her.”

“She claims it was self-defence.” Bonnie said. “She needs someone to help prove it.” Bonnie was avoiding eye-contact.

There was a quiet murmur as all Sirens but Queenie looked at each other. Queenie was staring at Bonnie, knowing where this was going.

“What did you tell her?” Queenie asked quietly, silencing the table instantly as they all turned to Bonnie. Bonnie was looking back at Queenie with a guilty look on her face.

Blue realised and shook her head. “You said we’d help.” She said. “Goddamnit, prospect.”

“I only said we’d try.” Bonnie tried to cover her tracks. 

The table exploded in argument, “Why the hell did you say that?” “We’re only going to disappoint her” “Are you an actual idiot?” “How are you ever gonna get patched?!”. The outcry was quietened only by Queenie banging the gavel on the table. Bonnie looked like she was going to cry as they fell silent and looked at Queenie who had the expression on her face that usually led to the Sirens getting into trouble. 

“Q.” Blue said quietly but Queenie shook her head.

“What makes you think it was self-defence?” Queenie asked. 

“I don’t know, it’s just what she said.” Bonnie bit her lip as she thought. “I think there was abuse.”

Blue looked at Bonnie a little too quick. Queenie noticed. Her mind thought a million thoughts as she tried to decide what was for the best.

“She in County?” Queenie asked. Bonnie nodded as the table threatened to erupt again. Queenie banged her gavel to silence the rumbling. “Look, guys. It’s nuttin to do with the fuzz. It’s a woman who might need our help. A _woman._ Who better than us?”

“We’re not a legal team, Queenie.” Angel argued.

“No. We’re better. We’re vigilantes with tits. Most of us know what it’s like to be a woman in the system. Innocent or not she’s gonna get pushed about. If it is an abuse case, if it was self-defence how good we gonna feel clearin’ her name. This is California. We got capitol. If she’s convicted she swings.” Queenie spoke the truth. Her words easily convinced the Sirens to her side. Those who were on the fence could see they had no way out without appearing heartless. “All in favour of helping out Bonnie’s family. OR at least trying.” Queenie raised her hand. One by one the Sirens agreed, either by their own decision or because they felt they should. Queenie banged her gavel, the vote unanimous. “We protect our own kind. Otherwise we’re no better than the rest.” She offered Bonnie a small smile. 

“What’s the plan?” Blue asked cautiously, her eyes burning into Queenie. Queenie caught her eye and gave her a small reassuring nod. “A few of us will go down to county, get an audience. Try and get a feel for her, hear her side.”

“How are we going to manage that?” Blue asked.

“Billy.” Queenie shrugged as though it was obvious.

“Damn.” Angel shook her head, “Queenie’s pussy strikes again.”

Queenie smirked but shrugged. “I’m not the only one with connections.” She met Phoenix and Angel’s eyes. Phoenix and Angel exchanged looks.

“I don’t know, Q.” Angel said, “Graham and me aren’t exactly tight right now.”

“Make it tight.” Queenie said. “A woman’s freedom is on the line.”

“I...” Angel shook her head. “Alright, I’ll call him.”

Queenie turned to Phoenix.

“I don’t know how I can help.” Phoenix scowled.

“You’re bedding Diana aren’t you?”

“What’s she going to be able to do?”

“She’s in with the mayor.” Blue said as though it was obvious. “Diana can get to the mayor, the mayor can get to the DA.”

“But...” Phoenix started, then huffed and nodded. “Alright. Yeah, I’ll ask her.”

“Blue, Black Widow and Bonnie. The three B’s.” Queenie smirked at her own joke as it was answered with titters from the table, “Head to county. Get an audience.”

“Don’t you need to be there to get Billy onside?” Blue asked, her eyes widening a little at Queenie. Queenie sucked her teeth and shook her head.

“My name carries enough.” Queenie smirked. Billy and her went way back as fuck-buddies. “I’ll text him, tell him I’ll see him Friday.”

Blue rolled her eyes at Queenie. “What are you going to do?”

“Some of us have to keep on top of Veneño.” Queenie shrugged with a look to Foxy and Ginger. Blue frowned a little at her as Queenie shot her a look that said ‘not now.’ “Any questions?” Head shakes answered her. “Good. Dismissed.” Queenie banged the gavel again. 

One by one the Sirens exited Church. Blue got to her feet but waited for most of them to have left so she could speak privately with Queenie, who was texting Billy the warden.

“What’s this really about, Q?” Blue asked.

Queenie met her eye and, after a long pause, shrugged slightly. “I just think you’ll handle abuse cases better.” Queenie said seriously. Blue blinked at her and then swallowed drily and nodded.

“Damn you, bitch.” Blue said.

“Do me proud VP.” Queenie replied. Blue flipped her the bird as she exited, leaving Queenie alone in Church. In all honesty she didn’t trust herself to handle another case after what had happened with Colt. She didn’t feel like her past would let her.

****

Getting through security for an audience with Mrs Levine was surprisingly easy. Queenie had some serious strings when it came to Billy and thankfully he was almost always on duty. Blue settled herself besides Bonnie on the jail issued benches whilst Black Widow lurked in the background and they waited for Mrs Levine to be shown in.

Blue couldn’t help but think about how this would affect her. Colt and his resurgence had not been easy for Queenie and Blue she needed time to heal, but handling a case about potential abuse was never going to end well for Blue. Blue chose to believe Queenie had put her on it because she felt she would recognise the symptoms, having been through it herself, and not for any other reason.

The door opened and Mrs Levine was shown in. She was nothing like Blue had expected. She had ringletted blonde hair, was slim and looked like she was not strong enough to have done anything close to murder. Though that’s what people often thought about Blue.

Bonnie got to her feet as Mrs Levine was deposited in front of them and the warden looked to Bonnie with a glare. Blue pulled the prospect back down beside her. The warden stepped back as Mrs Levine cleared her throat.

“Hi Tia.” She said with a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hi Tiff.” Bonnie replied. Blue looked between them.

“You done?” Blue asked.

“Of course.” Bonnie said as Tiffany Levine looked at her fearfully. “Tiff, this is Blue, the Sirens VP. And Black Widow.” She gestured.

“I would shake your hand but touching isn’t permitted.” Tiffany said with a small smile. The warden sniffed in agreement.

“Don’t we know it.” Blue said. “Right, Tiffany, we don’t have a lot of time. Tell us in your words what happened.”

“It was Thursday night.” Tiffany started and they got the impression she had said this hundreds of times, “Jack came home from work smelling of liquor and perfume. This has happened a lot lately and I’d always brushed it off, ya know. But this time it was real strong. I knew he couldn’t cover it this time so I confronted him about it. When I say confronted,” She covered herself quickly, “I mean just asked him. He’s a teacher so he often works late but a schoolteacher shouldn’t be smelling of liquor. We argued.”

“Did this argument get violent?” Blue asked. Her voice was hollow as she tried not to lose herself in her own memories.

“Not to start with.” Tiffany shook her head. “We were standing either side of the kitchen counter. But then he started using words I’ve never heard from him before: slut and whore and,” She caught her breath as she sobbed and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Tiff. Take your time.” Bonnie said calmly.

“We haven’t got time.” Black Widow said bitterly.

“What happened with the knife, Tiffany?” Blue prompted as the warden checked his watch.

“He grabbed a knife and started waving it at me, calling me these names. Then he came towards me, told me he was going to teach me a lesson I would never forget,” Blue’s head jerked as though she had been slapped. Tiffany frowned at her but continued as Blue gestured. “...about suspecting him and accusing him... Somehow, and I don’t remember how, I got the knife and then before I knew it I was stabbing him in the gut. There was blood everywhere. It’s not like the movies...” Her voice shook. “He bled out whilst I called the ambulance... I couldn’t save him. I didn’t mean any of it...” She sobbed with her head in her hands. Bonnie reached out to comfort her but the warden made a move and Blue took Bonnie’s wrist.

Blue looked over Tiffany for a long time. Her words had brought back long buried memories. What was Queenie playing at, sending Blue in? She knew her history. She knew what this case would trigger in her. Was that what she wanted? Rage? Blue sighed heavily. If she wanted it, she had it. “We can’t have a woman convicted of murder in this town. We’re already a laughing stock.” Blue spoke slowly over Tiffany’s sobbing. She met her eye hopefully. “We’ll do what we can for you.”

“Do you promise?” Tiffany asked weakly.

“I’m not promising we can get you off or prove you innocent. Nobody was there and there’s no witnesses.” Tiffany nodded mournfully. “I can promise we will try.” Blue got to her feet, done. “Hang in there, Tiffany. They’ll eat you alive here if you show them they can.”

And with that Blue was done. She nodded to the warden to let them out and Bonnie and Black Widow followed, bewildered. Blue could be as mysterious and impulsive as Queenie sometimes. They were a dangerous duo for that reason.

“Hang in there.” Bonnie said softly as she followed Blue away from Tiffany.

Tiffany watched them leave, feeling her one hope had left with them. She felt no better now than she had twenty minutes previously. She couldn’t help but feel her fate hung in the hands of a mad woman with a dark history.

She would be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Kiss With a Fist - Florence and the Machine


	8. Season 1, Episode 3: Drown in Desire (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens put plans in place to help Mrs Levine commute her sentence. Blue deals with her past demons.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dr Hill looked up from his paperwork strewn desk to where Angel was standing in the doorway. She flashed him an innocent look and hung up the phone she was holding to her ear, cutting off Blue from her account of meeting Tiffany.

“What kind of greeting is that?” Angel asked with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes as she crossed the room and kissed Graham full on the mouth. He didn’t stop her, but he didn’t commit either. Their history was a rocky one.

Dr Graham Hill was a skinny, balding man who had always put his career before his love. He was great in bed and he and Angel had an on-again-off-again understanding when it came to sex. Love was off the table, but that didn’t stop him trying to get serious once upon a time.

“I thought you’d have missed me?” Angel asked with a small smirk. She knew Graham would melt easily. He knew it too. He looked away from her porcelain features and grumbled to himself.

“What do you want Angel?” He asked, shuffling papers in an attempt to look busy. Angel could tell from the bulge in his white coat that he was failing to think of anything but her.

“I came to ask you a favour.” Angel ran her long-nailed fingers down his cheek in a way that made him shiver.

“A club favour?” Graham asked warily.

“Maybe.”

“No.” Graham said defiantly.

“Oh, come on Graham. We need you.”

“What’s in it for me? I could lose my job and have nothing to show for my ‘help’ except the gratitude of you and your Italian overlord.”

“Graham, don’t be like that.” Angel gripped his collar so he couldn’t move away as he was threatening to. “I’m not going to ask you anything you don’t already do. Not like last time... you don’t have to exhume anyone.”

Graham instantly looked a little more hopeful. He made the mistake of looking at her as she perched on his desk in front of him. She had always been gorgeous. She fingers his collar as she looked at him with a simpering expression.

“What is it?” He sighed resignedly. She was getting through to him and he knew it. Goddamn Siren.

Angel pushed his glasses further up his sweating nose for him and simpered. “We need you to slide us a copy of Jack Levine’s post-mortem.”

“What? Why? What’s he got to do with the club?” Graham asked.

“His wife is accused of his murder. She’s related to one of us.” Angel said with a small shrug. She ran her foot up the inside of his leg so that he squirmed. “We need you to slip us the report so we can get her free.”

“Why would you want her free if she was a murderer?” Graham squinted suspiciously.

“We don’t think it was murder. We think it was self-defence.”

“Then let her legal team handle it? If I find that in the report then surely it’ll get her off.”

“The system is biased against women, Graham, we all know that.” Angel pouted. “She needs the club to bail her out. We got Capitol punishment here. If you can get us the report we can get it to the right people, rather than the corrupt justice system run by men with dicks in their hands.” Angel fluttered her eyelashes again.

Graham sighed heavily. “Alright,” He caved. “I’ll get it to you by this evening.”

“Thanks Graham.” Angel pulled him against her and wrapped her legs around his waist, “I knew you’d come through.” She kissed him and pulled him on top of her on the desk.

****

Across town Phoenix waited patiently in the mayor’s waiting room for an audience with Diana. Their relationship was new and this would be the first time Phoenix had used her for the clubs gain. She didn’t know how she felt about it in all fairness. Diana was a sweet soul, nothing like Phoenix with her tattoos and wild hair and even wilder attitude.

“Miss Banks?” The receptionist said, breaking Phoenix from her agitated foot-tapping state. Phoenix got to her feet. “Diana is ready for you.”

“Thanks.” Phoenix said, pulling her kutte tighter around herself. Diana didn’t like to associate herself too much with the club. They were vigilantes in the town but they were still bad news. She would have to tread carefully to get Diana onside.

“Is everything okay?” Diana asked as Phoenix let herself into the office-outside-the-mayor’s-office that was held by Diana. She was a fiery red-head with fierce curves, but that was where her fierceness stopped. “You’ve never visited me at work.” Diana stopped as she took in Phoenix’s wardrobe.

“I’m here on Siren business I’m afraid.” Phoenix said.

Diana’s face fell. “Kaya...” Diana shook her head, “I have always said I want nothing to do with the club...”

“I know, but hear me out.” Phoenix stepped towards her imploringly. “It’s not even really about the club. It’s about womens rights.”

Diana’s eyebrow cocked, her interest peaked. “Oh? How so?”

“There’s a woman in prison: Tiffany Levine.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Killed her husband.”

“We don’t think she did.” Phoenix shook her head, “We think she was abused and she was acting in self-defence.”

“Why is this even a club matter?” Diana asked, sitting behind her desk. “Why do you even care? Isn’t your remit to shoot-up trailer-trash and chase out drug-lords?”

Phoenix stumbled a little, hurt, but shook it off. “Our remit is to stand up for women who can’t or won’t stand up for themselves.” Phoenix implored, “It always has been our remit. Levine needs our help.”

“Why even get involved, Phoenix? Why leave it alone for the justice system to deal with?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed everybody in power in this town – in this county – is a man.” Phoenix sat opposite Diana and reached over the desk to take her hands. She had a point that Diana was listening to. “We need at least one of them on our side.”

“You want me to talk to the Mayor?” Diana shook her head in realisation. “Jesus, Kaya, you said you’d never use me...!”

“I’m not using you!” Phoenix implored, “I’m _asking_ you.”

“Why are you so sure Mrs Levine didn’t do it? The evidence is pretty...”

“She did.” Phoenix interrupted. “We’re just asking for somebody to get through to the DA to commute her sentence to self-defence, not first degree. We got character witnesses.”

“Who?” Diana frowned.

“Bonnie, our prospect. Levine is her cousin.”

“Now it makes sense.” Diana nodded.

“We have contacts with the pathologist who can help back up our claim, too. We’re not just stabbing in the dark.”

“Look, Kaya, I want to help but I don’t know...”

“Think about it, Diana.” Phoenix shifted closer to her, “If this woman goes to jail as a murderer it’s a stab in the back for every abused woman out there. It sends the message that punishment is the only thing that awaits them. If we can commute her sentence, if we can get the men in power to see the truth, think what that’ll do for women everywhere. We just need the Mayor to help.”

“The Mayor hates the Sirens.” Diana shook her head. “You know he does.”

“But he trusts you.” Phoenix’s dark eyes burned into Diana.

Diana hesitated. “I’m putting a lot on the line...”

“For justice and truth.” Phoenix finished for her. “And my undying love.”

“Love?” Diana cocked an eyebrow.

It was Phoenix’ turn to hesitate. She and Diana had only been dating a few months after meeting in a bar... Yet she felt sure.

“Yes.” Phoenix nodded assertively. “Love.”

Diana smiled uncontrollably at her, then rolled her eyes. “Alright, you wily minx. You win.” Phoenix grinned, “But!” Diana interrupted her celebration assertively, “I can only promise I’ll try. If the Mayor doesn’t...”

“Thank you.” Phoenix grinned, “I have faith you’ll get through to him.”

She reached over the deck and kissed Diana on the lips, not caring who saw or cared. Diana let her for a moment and then pushed her away, but she was smiling.

“Get out of here, you bad bitch, before you jeopardise everything.” Diana ran her finger over her lips. Phoenix got to her feet and winked at her.

“My place later?” Phoenix asked with a toss of her black curls.

“Go.” Diana said in response. As much as she didn’t want to desire the Sergeant at Arms as much as she did, she couldn’t help it. The Sirens were called thus for a reason. They were hard to shake.

Phoenix left the Mayor’s office and dialled Queenie’s cell.

“Hey,” She said, “Diana is on-board.”

“Good.”

“Where are you at? You need me?”

Queenie looked up at the shady Speakeasy bar that she stood in front of and shook her head. “No, Phoenix, I’m good. Head back to Atlantis.” She closed her phone and headed into the booze soaked, jazz-orchestrated den of desire.

****

Queenie pulled her sunglasses from her face and looked around at the bar that was the front for Adonis. Everywhere she looked there were Greek-God like men with rippling muscles straining their t-shirts and women and men playing up to their charms. She recognised more of the Gods faces than she cared to admit.

“Hey Queenie,” said a tall ebony man as he passed her with a tray of cocktails in his hand. “I didn’t expect to see you for a while?”

“Club business.” Queenie replied a she slid her glasses into the front pocket of her kutte. “You’re looking good Quad,” Her eyes sparkled devilishly as she looked him over, then remembered why she was here. “Fisher around?”

“I’ll get him.” Quad replied with a wink, “Hey, Queenie, perhaps you and I could get together sometime?” He lowered his voice, “Off the books?” He looked her up and down.

“I’m sure that could be arranged.” Queenie replied with a flirtatious smile. Quad grinned to himself and headed into the back to find Fisher. Queenie folded her arms and looked around at where the men were earning their living. She tried not to think about when this kind of thing had been how she had made her own living. It had been a dark time that was for sure. She was pulled from her thoughts by the suave, middle-aged, blonde English man who crossed the bar towards her.

“Well, well, well.” Fisher said as he personally greeted Queenie with a kiss to each cheek in his slimy way. He smelled heavily of cologne and Queenie wondered if it was to mask the smell of his other side business. “To what do I owe this royal visit?”

“I need a favour, Woodrow.” Queenie said.

“Of course you do.” Fisher replied. “Shall we talk privately?”

“You got a room not covered in invisible stains?” Queenie asked.

“Don’t act like you’re so above it.” Fisher chuckled at her, but he led the way to his own office and shut the door. The room was no less vile than the rest of the establishment. He sat himself on a couch Queenie was pleased to see was made of leather. She perched cautiously on the arm and tried not to think about what went on behind these closed doors. Fisher put his arm nonchalantly over the back of the couch and looked to her, picking his teeth with a toothpick. “You’re looking good.”

“I’m not looking for that kind of favour.” Queenie replied, though she flashed him a smile. “Not for me anyway.”

“Your ladies having a party? Need some tail-chasers? Mates-rates apply.” Fisher grinned.

“Unfortunately not.” Queenie replied, “Though I am grateful for that.”

“Shame. Quad, Ronnie and Dijon never shut up about you.” Fisher chuckled.

“What I need is more from your side-business, Fisher.” Queenie said.

“Drugs?” Fisher asked.

“The other one.”

“Aphrodite?” Fisher asked.

“Yes.”

“You batting for the other team now, Q? Quad will be disappointed.”

“Not for me, Fisher.” Queenie replied. “I need some of your best ladies to do us a solid.”

“You lacking in ranks?”

“No.” Queenie was growing frustrated with his constant attempt to finish her sentences. “I need them to play the Politician package.”

Fisher whistled. “Damn girl, that’s gonna cost you.”

“I know.” Queenie said, bristling, “But it’s for a specific reason. You got ladies up to the task?”

“Depends on what that task is exactly.”

“We’re working a court case. A family member of one of the club is facing first-degree charges. We need it commuting, and we need some persuading whispers in some influential ears to achieve it.”

“The Levine case?”

“How did you know?” Queenie frowned at him.

“It screamed Siren involvement.” Fisher tapped the newspaper on the coffee table. “A hard-to-do abused woman? Right up your alley.”

“Here’s a list of those on the court case that our hacker pulled.” Queenie handed a sheet of paper to him. “Send some ladies their way and I’ll pick up the cost.”

Fisher read over the list and nodded before meeting Queenie’s eye. “Why do you care so much about these things, Q?”

“I don’t like to see women hard-done by. Not when something can be done about it.”

“Quite the vigilante.” Fisher replied. “I got you.”

“Vigilante with tits.” Queenie grinned at him. She looked at her watch and then cocked an eyebrow at him. “Quad got any free time right now?”

Fisher’s eyes lit up. “I’m sure it could be arranged for our best customer.”

****

Blue sat alone on the roof of Atlantis waiting for Queenie to come back from wherever it was she had disappeared to. Of all the times she needed Queenie and she wasn’t there, this was the worst. Speaking with Tiffany Levine had pulled up all sorts of demons from her past.

Blue held her cigarette between her lips and rolled up the sleeves of her flannel shirt. The scars on her forearms were long since faded or covered with tattoos but nonetheless she could remember them. The pain of the cigarette blunt being pushed into her flesh, the bite mark where he had reminded her he could do anything, the lash wound from his belt.

Blue shuddered and covered her arms again. This case was going to bring up demons alright, and she wasn’t ready to face them. She knew that when she did she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from seeking revenge. She wasn’t strong enough for that yet.

****

“This has been fun, but I have to go. Got to keep working this Levine case.” Queenie pulled on her trousers.

“Levine case?” Quad asked as he zipped up Queenie’s trousers for her. He was glistening with sweat from their hour-long encounter but Queenie was already seemingly over it as she brushed her long hair over her shoulder and tidied her make-up.

“Yeah. You know anything?” Queenie asked as she pulled on her boots. Quad ran a hand up her leg as she did from where he was in the bed. She allowed him for the next few moments.

“I know the name.” He said thoughtfully. “Jack Levine, right?”

Queenie looked at him so fast her neck cracked. “Yeah. You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s an Aphrodite regular. Or was, God rest him.” Quad said as if it were obvious.

“Quad...” Queenie leant back over his chest as she appealed to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he was here a lot. Usually in the evening. He would hang out with Jane.”

“Jane?” Queenie asked, running her finger along his collar-bone.

“Yeah, she’s fairly new to Aphrodite, only a couple of months, but as far as I know she’s the only one he ever met with. If she wasn’t available he’d leave.”

“She available now?” Queenie asked, but Quad shook his head.

“She hasn’t come in since Jack stopped coming.”

“Quad...” Queenie asked, “Was Jack here the night he was killed?”

Quad frowned. “You’d have to check the books, Q.”

Queenie pushed off him and finished lacing her boot and buttoning her blouse. She shrugged on her kutte and grinned. “Thanks for this, Quad, you’ve been helpful. In more ways than one.” She winked at him and left before he could so much as replace his underwear.

As she walked down the corridor of pleasure, hearing noises from behind closed doors that she hoped she hadn’t replicated, she felt her cell buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out to see Angel’s name flashing.

“Whats up?” She asked.

“Queenie. Jack Levine, he was stabbed in self-defence.”

“What?” Queenie stopped walking.

“Yeah. Graham sent me a copy of the post-mortem. He had wounds in only one place so he’s fairly sure it wasn’t a rage killing. And, get this, he had old wounds too. Bite marks and bruises on his ass and shoulders. What does that sound like to you?”

“Sounds like old Jack liked a bit of rough.” Queenie replied.

“Exactly.”

“Those bite marks.” Queenie suddenly had an idea, “Can Graham lift them? Surely there’s got to be a dental expert somewhere who could make a mould.”

“Queenie, you’re a genius.” Angel said. There was a pause on the line as a particularly loud cry came from behind the door next to Queenie. Queenie swore and stepped away from it. “Q, are you ...”

“I needed to get Fisher on the books.” Queenie said defensively. Her eyes lit up.” And actually, it helped. Brought a whore called Jane in on the case. Apparently Levine was her most loyal customer.”

“Q.” Angel said, “If we can get her to testify that she was with Jack...”

Queenie faltered. “It’ll make Tiffany sound like she was acting a jealous rage.” Queenie blew up her fringe. Perhaps Jane wasn’t quite the blessing they had hoped. “Thanks for the report, Angel. Any sign of Blue?”

“Yeah, she’s on the roof. Do you want her?”

“I’ll call her. Get her input on Tiffany.” Queenie said. “Later.”

“Bye.” Angel hung up. Queenie continued down the corridor away from the chorus of sex and rubbed her finger over her temple. She had thought Jane would help but it was going to do nothing but hurt Tiffany’s case. Maybe Jane would be of no use after all.

Or maybe she could speak for Jack’s character... that of an abuser and an adulterer. Queenie was sure Jane could be persuaded to see that as the truth even if she wasn’t aware of it.

Queenie spotted Fisher by the wall and slid into the booth with him before he could argue.

“Have fun with Quad?” Fisher’s eyes lit up.

“Jane.” Queenie said. “Any idea where I can find her?”

“Why?” Fisher frowned. “You got beef with one of my women?”

“Not beef. I just need to talk to her. And I mean talk, not _talk._ ” She cracked her knuckles.

Fisher looked over Queenie with heavy eyes and then sighed. He pulled a napkin towards himself and then scribbled an address. “I’m warning you Q. If she ends up bloodied and bruised I’m coming after you.”

“Noted.” Queenie replied, picking up the napkin and heading for the door.

“Hey, Queenie, you gotta pay...!” Fisher called.

“Put it on my tab!” Queenie shouted back as she exited the bar.

****

Blue had decided to put the abuse of her past back in the ground as her cell rang. She glanced at the name and then shook her head.

“Q.” She said.

“Stop moping about your own demons. I need you to meet me.” Queenie said, demonstrating her uncanny knack of knowing Blue’s mind better than she did.

“Where?” Blue asked with a sigh.

“Brooklyn street.” Queenie said. “House 14.”

Blue faltered. “14?”

“Yhup.” Queenie said, “Your happy haunt of days gone by.”

“You tell me to drop my demons and then dig up new ones.” Blue grumbled.

“Shut up and get your ass on your bike.” Queenie ordered, “I need you to talk some sense into our star witness.”

“Who?” Blue asked, wondering what Queenie’s angle was with all of this. First she dug up Blue’s history of abuse and now she was getting at her way of dealing with it.

“Jane.” Queenie said.

“Jane Constanza?” Blue stopped climbing down the fire escape and stared into space.

“Maybe?” Queenie said.

“Why do we need her?”

“She’s the lucky lady Jack Levine was doing.”

“Jane? But she’s a junkie.” Blue said weakly.

“Apparently she’s also now a whore, courtesy of our friend Fisher. Get down there.”

“Right.” Blue nodded and hung up. This case was unravelling a whole load of mess Blue wasn’t sure they’d all be prepared for. As she reached the parking lot and headed for her bike she could see Black Widow watching her from the bar. There was something about the expression on her face that unnerved her. She figured it must be a trick of the light and her uneasy mind. She mounted her bike and kicked it into gear, speeding off in the direction of her past.

****

Number 14, Brooklyn Street was a notorious haunt for junkies of all walks of life, packed into its rooms like some form of messed up hostel. Blue had utilised it herself in her modern history. It was where she had been living when Lady had found her, and often afterwards. She had been clean and sober for years now but that didn’t mean this wasn’t going to be difficult.

Queenie was waiting for her outside when she pulled up. She pulled off her helmet and sighed at the President and listened patiently as Queenie filled her in.

“Why am I here Q?” Blue said with a worried look up at the old house. The memories that it was bringing back were not welcome ones.

“You know Jane. She knows you. We need to persuade her to testify against Jack’s wholesome image, to let the court know he was an abuser and Tiffany Levine was a victim of his temper.”

“What if we’re wrong, Q.” Blue faltered. “What if we’re tarnishing the reputation of a good man and saving the reputation of a murderer.”

“Blue.” Queenie stepped towards her, her face sympathetic. “I know this is hard for you. But if you had got the revenge you plan and you were being held up in court for it, wouldn’t you want us to do this for you?”

Blue nodded, defeated. “Alright. I need you to keep me strong in there.”

“Always.” Queenie promised with a serious expression, reaching out and squeezing Blue’s hand.

She headed up the path with Queenie on her heels. The door, as always, was unlocked and the smell of drugs and filth was heavy in the air. Queenie put a finger over her nose and was instantly reminded of the times she had to come and drag Blue out of this hell-hole. She kept a wary eye on her VP as they ventured further into the den.

“Jane!” Blue shouted. “Jane Constanza!”

There was a shuffle of movement from the shadows as crackheads scurried for shelter, and then a figure appeared on the stairs in a silken dressing gown and little else.

“Blue?!” Jane said. There was a giggle from her and then Blue was all but tackled in a hug that forced her backwards. Blue put up with it until Jane released her and then shrugged her kutte back on. “Man you look good.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.” Blue said, taking in Jane’s dark stringy hair and heavy circled eyes. “I thought you got clean.”

“Oh, I am.” Jane nodded. “Just the odd smoke but nothing hardcore.” She made a promise gesture.

“Then why are you here?” Blue asked, looking around them.

“Like it or not I live here, but I’m looking at moving out. Got me a steady job now and things are looking up.” Jane grinned. Her eyes were a little bugged but otherwise she seemed to be telling the truth.

“Alright.” Blue raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Can we talk?”

“Sure. About what?” Jane looked to Queenie, who offered her a small smile, and back. “Hey, check out the fancy jackets. You got patched then?!”

Blue looked down at her kutte and remembered the last time she had seen Jane she was about to prospect. “I did. This is Queenie, the Pres.”

“Your majesty,” Jane saluted and Queenie nodded in acknowledgement. “What do you need?” She turned back to Blue.

“Can we sit out?” Blue looked around nervously again.

“Oh, of course, sure.” Jane headed for the door and lead them back out into the fresh air and sunlight of the yard. “Man you do look good!” Jane looked Blue up and down again. “I’d sure love to be a Siren.”

“Maybe that’s something we could think about.” Queenie said with a knowing look to Blue. She turned her back on them so Blue could have some privacy.

“Listen, Jane, we need your help.”

“Oh?”

“It’s about one of your clients at Aphrodite. Jack Levine?”

Jane hung her head mournfully. “Yeah. I heard about him. His wife...” She shook her head. “How could she do that?”

“So Jack was a good man?” Blue prompted.

A look of fear flashed over Jane’s face that did not go unnoticed. “He... was complicated.”

“Jane... that’s what we need from you. It’s complicated but basically we need to get Tiffany’s sentence lessoned. She’s facing capitol for first degree murder but we need to prove that she didn’t pre-meditate. When Jack was with you did he ever hurt you, Jane?”

Jane looked her in the eye. Blue recognised the look behind her eyes. It was the same look she had seen in Tiffany, the same look she had seen in her own eyes.

She had the answer she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Bad Girlfriend - Theory of a Deadman


	9. Season 1, Episode 3: Drown in Desire (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case comes to a head and a traitor is revealed.

“He pinned me against the wall. Told me if I didn’t commit to him, stop flirting with other men, leave town with him... he’d kill me.” Jane sniffled convincingly as she minutely met Blue’s eye at the back of the courtroom. Blue shot her a look and then glanced to Queenie at her side, who was smirking. They had left their kuttes at home for favour of court-appropriate attire and were nestled in the back of the public gallery, watching their hard-work unfold.

Tiffany Levine had already said her piece and now sat silently beside the lawyer chosen specifically by the Mayor for the case, thanks to Diana’s whisperings. The evidence put forth by Dr Graham Hill was on boards around the room and the jury were watching carefully, some of them (and the lawyers) still bearing signs of hickies from Aphrodite’s finest. It was hard not to feel proud at the power the Sirens held when they looked around the room. If only it would work. Queenie glanced to her sides at the rest of the Sirens’ as they sat quietly triumphant, all except Black Widow who had been too ill to attend.

“I’ve heard enough.” The Judge called out. He, too, bore signs of a good time. He addressed the jury and dismissed them to make their decisions. One by one the defence left the courtroom and then the public were permitted to filter out to the cafeteria. Blue caught Tiffany’s eye as she left, giving her the smallest of reassuring nods.

“How did I do?” Jane asked Queenie as they stood in a huddle in the corridor. “Am I Siren’s material?”

“I’d say so.” Queenie said. “You did good. “She gave her a small smile.”

“Come by the clubhouse later.” Blue said. “Once all this is done. We’ll see what we can do.”

Jane beamed at them and then walked away before she was caught talking to them.

“Thank you, Queenie. Blue. For everything.” Bonnie appeared at their elbows. “I know sometimes you think I’m not great for this club but I want you to know how much this means to me, and to Tiffany.”

“She’ll still have to do time.” Queenie said. “A lot of it.”

“I know. And she does. But it’s better than capitol.”

“And it’s justice for abuse victims everywhere.” Blue added with a small look to Queenie. Queenie nodded at her and turned to Bonnie.

“You’re in the club, Bonnie. Prospect or not you’re one of us, and we protect our own.” Queenie smiled at her.

“How long you got left?” Blue asked.

“Three months.” Bonnie said.

Blue pursed her lips and nodded. “Alright. Keep it up kid.”

Bonnie grinned and hurried away again.

“You think that kid really is Siren material?” Queenie asked, sipping the god-awful court-issued coffee.

“I think her hearts in the right place. And she’s learning the rest.” Blue shrugged.

Queenie looked Blue up and down. “You sure you’re okay. I know all this hasn’t been easy.”

Blue met her eye. “Yeah, I’m good. What happened to me... it’s in the past. Maybe one day I’ll deal with it properly, but for now this all seems like a good band-aid, you know. If we can get Levine a commuted sentence it shows there’s hope for all of us who have suffered abuse.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Queenie said softly, squeezing Blue’s arm. Blue smiled back at her. Queenie was the only one who knew everything about Blue’s past and Blue couldn’t help but wonder if Queenie had tackled this case as a way of reminding Blue that everything could be overcome.

“Don’t let Widow see you being soppy.” Blue shrugged her off.

“Widow ain’t here.” Queenie replied.

“That’s true.” Blue grinned at her.

“You really think Jane has what it takes to prospect?” Queenie looked over to where Jane sat alone on her cell.

Blue followed her gaze. “She reminds me of me.” Blue shrugged. “When she allies with someone she fights for it.”

Queenie nodded. She wasn’t sure, something about Jane made her uneasy. She seemed too eager to please, too eager to be a Siren. And she seemed to have Blue manipulated.

****

The verdict was returned within three hours and Tiffany was awarded murder in the third degree, with the jury concluding she had acted in self-defence of her abusive husband. She even smiled a little as she was led away, giving Bonnie a reassuring nod of thanks.

It was cause for celebration and it was Bonnie who popped the champagne in Atlantis that evening, standing up on the bar and spraying them all as the cork flew out. The music pumped and the Sirens mingled with Fisher and his tailchasers. Queenie disappeared with Quad to the back room and when they returned he was weak at the knees.

“Any sign of Jane?” Queenie asked as she took her beer back from Blue. Blue did not desire to get drowned by tail-chasers.

“Yeah...” Blue craned over the crowd. “She was talking to Black Widow...”

Neither of them were in eye-sight. Queenie wasn’t too bothered.

“Glad Widow is feeling better.” Queenie swigged from her beer. “I hate it when we’re apart.”

Blue giggled and rolled her eyes at Queenie’s sarcasm. “I got the prospect patch already whilst you were filling yourself with Quad.”

“Hey.” Queenie said, “Don’t knock down what Quad and I have.”

“You know he’s attached to you, right?”

“I have that effect.” Queenie shrugged.

“Like Juice...” Blue teased. Queenie snapped her head to look at her.

“What about Juice?” She was overly defensive, trying to make out that she hadn’t given the Puerto Rican much thought. Blue knew better. Queenie had been thinking about Juice as much as Blue had been thinking about Jax.

“Exactly.” Blue smirked.

“Have they got in contact at all?” Queenie said casually. Her mouth was dry as she looked over to Quad. As handsome as he was she couldn’t deny who she had wished he was when they fucked. She cleared her throat and forced herself to concentrate.

“Not that I know of. Must be dealing with Veneño from their end.” Blue said thoughtfully.

“Veneño have been quiet lately.” Queenie said. “I don’t trust it.”

“Apart from Colt.”

“Colt was an idiot. He is just a hit man for them. The braun.” Queenie sighed. “I should call Clay. Check in. As much as it pains me to do so.”

No sooner had Queenie put her beer down and made to dial her cell than Black Widow slammed into the bar and hurried through the awing crowd to Queenie and Blue.

“Go back to your business!” Blue ordered the crowd, then lowered her voice. “What is it?”

“Veneño.” Black Widow said, looking between them.

“What?!” Queenie demanded.

“They sent a spy into our clubhouse.” Black Widow panted.

Blue stared at her. “Who?”

Black Widow gave her a serious look and held up a bloodied handkerchief. Queenie took it with a feverish hand and looked from Black Widow, to Blue, to the handkerchief. Queenie steeled her stomach and slowly unwrapped the handkerchief just as Black Widow spoke in a hushed, accusatory voice: “Jane Constanza.”

Blue and Queenie gasped as the unwrapped handkerchief revealed the severed finger of Jane, complete with the viper of Veneño tattooed on the inside.

Queenie felt sick.

“Black Widow, what did you do?” Blue demanded in a rasp.

“I had to. When she arrived she handed me a bottle and I saw that on her finger, so I offered to show her the lot and when she turned her back I lit her treacherous ass on fire. Don’t you see? Veneño have been playing us all the time. This case was a plant. If I were you, I’d watch Bonnie too.”

Blue and Queenie exchanged horrified looks. Neither of them had noticed this tattoo on Jane, but then neither of them had really been in their right mind.

“Thanks Widow.” Queenie folded the handkerchief again.

“Anytime.” Black Widow said. “You know I’m loyal to a fault.”

Queenie nodded numbly. If Veneño had a foothold here... She shuddered.

It was only a matter of time until they made their strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Whipping Post - The Allman Brothers Band


	10. Season 1, Episode 4: Under the Surface (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Blue reminisce about Lady on the anniversary of her death. Flashbacks reveal how they met each other.

**2008**

“I knew I’d find you here.” Blue said softly from behind where Queenie was standing. Queenie jumped a little in her thin jacket, the breeze picking up around her ankles as she turned to face Blue. She was standing around the back of the clubhouse near where Lady’s mural was painted. Weeks had passed since the court case and Veneño had once again fallen quiet. Queenie felt she was losing grip, and Blue knew it.

“It’s been three years exactly.” Queenie said quietly. “I can’t help but be nostalgic this time of year.”

“You been to church?” Blue asked gently. Queenie nodded. 

“Yeah.” She rubbed her arms. “It’s the only place I can feel close to her anymore.” 

Blue nodded and looped her arm in Queenie’s. They stood for a moment, looking at the mural. “You been to the grave?”

“I’m gonna head there now. Take her some dead flowers.”

“She always loved dead flowers.”

“Somebody had to.” Queenie smiled as she recounted Lady’s words.

“That was Lady all over.”

There was a companionable silence. “Where would we be without her?” Blue asked eventually. Queenie shrugged.

“Dead, probably.” She said with a small smile. “Or worse.” 

“I vote for worse.”

“Remember how much you hated me at the start?” Queenie grinned.

“At the start?” Blue giggled. “I hate you now.”

“Seriously. What did Lady ever see in us?”

“Potential.” Blue said with a knowing nod.

Queenie nodded back as she ran her fingers over the mural. They fell silent as their minds filled with the memories.

**1997**

When the weather in California is mentioned nobody expects to be mentioning rain, yet here Taylor was, in California, drenched to the bone. She was shivering so violently that she swore she could hear her bones rattle inside her thin, bruised skin. Still, she would take death by pneumonia over what she had left behind. She huddled in her jacket in the stoop of a building and watched jealously as a mother handed her chubby toddler a hot dog across the street. Taylor’s stomach grumbled and she punched it hard. 

“Shut up,” She muttered to herself, “You’re not getting fed so fuck off.” 

A shadow fell across her, blocking out the rain temporarily. Taylor looked up, prepared to be asked to move for the fourth time today. Instead she was looking at a middle aged blonde woman in a leather jacket, her eyes heavily outlined in kohl and her jeans tight and leather. Taylor blinked, wondering if she had died and was looking at the angel of death. 

“What are you looking at?” Taylor asked aggressively. There had been no shortage of people staring at her, the homeless girl on the street, skinny and worn out like she was a junkie. The woman didn’t reply, just simply shrugged off her leather jacket and held it out. 

“Your jacket is hardly gonna last another hour.” The woman said kindly. “Take mine.”

Taylor blinked at her. 

“Go on.” The woman said. Taylor held up a shaking hand and took the jacket, but the woman shook her head suddenly. “Wait, let me just go through the pockets.” She smiled kindly as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and a handgun. Taylor’s eyes widened as the woman realised. “Don’t worry,” She said, “I have a permit.” She handed over the jacket and Taylor pulled it on gratefully. It was warm and already she felt better. “You got a home, kid?”

“Not in this state.” Taylor replied shortly as the woman lit up a cigarette. Taylor looked at her wistfully. The woman handed one over and then lit one for herself. Taylor took a grateful drag. 

“You run away?” The woman asked. Taylor tried to judge her reaction. She seemed to be sympathising with her. Taylor nodded slowly. 

The woman looked like she was considering something before she gestured with her head. “Come on.” 

“What?” 

“You’re coming with me.” 

“Coming where?” Taylor said in a panic.

“To my house. I can’t leave you out here to catch your death.”

“Look, lady, that’s kind of you an’ all, but I don’t know you from Adam.” 

“And I don’t know you.” The woman said with a smile. “You got my name down though?”

“What? Lady?” Taylor skeptically.

“Lady indeed.” She rolled up the sleeve of her flannel shirt to reveal an enormous tattoo on her forearm. It was of a mermaid, or was it a siren, with a banner proclaiming LADY in fancy writing. The siren was giving the finger outwards. 

“That in case you forget?” Taylor said with a cocked eyebrow. 

“That’s my badge of honour.” Lady replied with a twinkle in her eye. “Come on. I’m soaked and freezing. I’ve got friends coming round for dinner and I haven’t even started it.” Lady began to walk away down the street. Taylor watched her get a little way away before hurrying after her, her mind made up. 

“I’m Taylor.” She replied. “Taylor Williams.”

“Nice to meet you Taylor.” Lady held out her hand again and this time Taylor shook it. “Tell me, kid. You ever ridden a motorcycle?”

Lady rounded the corner at the end of the block and gestured to a beautiful Harley Davidson parked just up from them. Taylor’s jaw dropped. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” Lady said. “You live with me, Taylor, and you’ll be riding in a week.” 

Feeling more excited than she had ever felt in her life, Taylor obligingly climbed onto the back of the beautiful beast as Lady climbed on in front of her. 

“Just hold on, yeah?” 

Taylor could only nod and grip tight to Lady as the bike roared away. 

**** 

Lady’s house wasn’t enormously impressive but it was larger than Taylor’s family home by at least two. Lady had two spare rooms and so she allocated the emptiest to Taylor, clearing all of the boxes of papers to the other room. Everywhere Taylor looked there was the Siren image, or motorcycle memorabilia. 

As Taylor waited for Lady to move the last box she caught sight of a photo hanging on the wall. It was a group of women and their bikes. It suddenly clicked in Taylor’s brain. 

“You part of an MC?” She asked. 

“Yeah.” Lady said with a smile. She looked at the same photo that was catching Taylor’s interest. “The Sirens MC. All women. I’m the President actually.” 

“You’re the President?” Taylor asked incredulously. “That’s so cool.”

“Now kid, there's some clean clothes in the drawers. They should fit you. I’ll make you a sandwich, just come down when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” Taylor said quietly. She began to get dressed in the room Lady had gestured to. This was more hospitality in an hour than she had received in years. She had a feeling she and Lady would be firm friends. She was already more of a mother to her than her own mother had ever been, she just had that kind of persona. The fact she was the President of an MC didn’t intimidate Taylor at all. In fact, it was the coolest thing she had ever encountered. She didn’t know women could be in an MC, but now she did... things were going to change for Taylor Williams. “Hey, Lady!” She called after her as she hurried down the hall in her borrowed clothes, “How old d’you gotta be to join?!”

Lady was standing in the kitchen and giggled as Taylor entered. “16 kid. Legal riding age in California.”

“I’m nearly 16.” Taylor said, hitching herself onto one of the stools Lady gestured to. “Can I join when I am?”

Lady chuckled. “I think maybe you should learn a little more about the club before you decide to prospect.”

“Prospect?” Taylor asked with a mouthful as she hungrily attacked the sandwich Lady gave her. Lady chuckled.

“Maybe learning terminology is where we start. That and teaching you to ride.” Lady handed her a napkin. “A prospect is someone who wants to join the club but first has to do a year of trial. Like a hazing process.”

Taylor stared at her. “Hazing?”

“Yhup. It’s gruelling, but that’s why we always try to have more than one prospect. It’s better to go through it together. Once you are patched, no longer a prospect, then you’re part of the MC and you live, breathe and bleed for the club.”

“I can do that.” Taylor nodded. “I’ve never had reason to breathe before.”

Lady shook her head sympathetically and chucked her under the chin. “How about you get some rest first and then we’ll talk about introducing you to the ladies.”

“What if they don’t like me?” Taylor swallowed, hard. “They won’t let me prospect.”

“It’s not up to them as individuals. It’s a group decision. You’ll be nominated...” She hesitated and Taylor frowned.

“Will you nominate me?”

“I, er, can’t.” Lady swept crumbs from the counter as Taylor’s face fell. “Or rather, shouldn’t. We try not to let the President prospect members. It can be seen as biased. Though for you... I wish I could make an exception.” She smiled warmly.

“I get it.” Taylor nodded, then shrugged. “I’ll just have to win over the other women, won’t I?”

Lady chuckled. “You will.”

There was a pause.

“Why are you so willing to let me in?” Taylor asked with a mouthful. “I’m a complete stranger.”

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Lady quoted simply. She gave Taylor a warm smile that lit up her eyes. “I wish someone could have shown me such kindness when I was your age. Perhaps things would have been different.”

Taylor felt there was a story there, but with a mouthful of sandwich she didn’t feel now was the time to ask. Instead she was content to be in Lady’s company, the mother she had always wanted but not the one she had gotten. So what if she was an MC President with tattoos and heavy make-up? She was already beginning to feel like home. Taylor felt if it was her and Lady forever she would be blessed.

****

The 7/Eleven was pretty quiet in the middle of the afternoon. The only customers were a couple of old people, a woman and her kids, Lady with her long blonde hair tied up in a chopstick pin and a new leather jacket, and a teenager hiding her face behind a sweatshirt hood. Lady paused in her comparison of two brands of mashed potato to watch as the teenager crossed the end of the aisle. The kid had her arms wrapped around her stomach, but even under the layers it was clear she was pregnant, pregnant or smuggling goods. Lady raised an eyebrow. Oldest trick in the book. She shook her head and went back to the mashed potato. It wasn’t her place to get involved. Yet there was something about the teenager that intrigued her. Much like Taylor had, there was something about this kid that screamed ‘help me’, even if she was hiding it in her suave attitude and fake baby bump.

The teenager rounded the corner of another aisle and saw a 60 year old woman looking down her nose at a magazine. Her handbag was open at her side, her purse hanging out the edge. The kid saw it and sidled up to her, just as Lady rounded the corner, and the older woman’s husband rounded the other end of the aisle. He saw her slide the purse out of the woman's bag, he shouted, and the kid dropped the purse on the ground. 

“Thief!” He shouted, alerting the shopkeepers attention. 

“No, I…!” The teenager started. There was a kerfuffle as the man put his hands on her upper arms threateningly. It was now that Lady intervened. 

“Hey!” She shouted, hurrying forwards. “Get your hands off my daughter!” She forcibly removed the man’s hands, her sleeve flying up and revealing the Siren MC tattoo, as the teenager stumbled, bewildered. The man recoiled at the ink. The staff hurried to help as Lady swept the kid behind her and out of the way. 

“What’s going on here?” demanded the manager as Lady squared up to them all. The manager faltered. “Oh, Lady, it’s you.”

“It is me, and this man assaulted my kid.” Lady demanded. The teenager blinked at her. The manager did too.

“Lady...” He started but a warning look from Lady shut him up in mid-argument.

“Your kid tried to steal my wife’s purse.” The old man argued.

“She brushed it accidentally. It fell out of her bag. Maybe your wife should look after her belongings better and not leave them hanging out?”

“Yeah?” The man demanded coldly. “What’s your daughter got hidden up her jacket? I think we can all agree that she's not really pregnant.” 

Lady looked at the kid. 

“Go on.” The man prompted the manager. “Get her to unzip her hoodie and show you what she’s hiding.” 

“Miss.” The manager said tentatively. The teenager looked worriedly between Lady and the other faces, before realising she couldn’t win. She began slowly unzipping her hoodie and revealed her pregnant bump underneath her vest. It was clearly real. She must have been 5 or 6 months. Lady looked her over and then turned triumphantly to the man. 

“We accept your apology.” Lady said sarcastically, before dropping her basket on the floor and taking the teenagers hand. “Come on doll.” She led the teenager out of the store and outside, not giving her chance to argue, before the kid pulled out of her grip. She rezipped her hoodie and shrugged away from Lady. 

“Thanks.” She muttered. 

“Don’t mention it.” Lady said, her eyes shining. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Rory. Aurora.” Rory replied, crossing her arms over her bump.

“They call me Lady.” Lady said with a warm smile. She glanced back into the store and then took Rory’s upper arm to lead her away from prying cameras. “You got parents, Rory?”

Rory shook her head. 

“Any family at all?” Lady asked. 

Rory hesitated, then shook her head again. 

“How far along are you? He still in the picture? The dad?”

Rory shook her head. “I think I’m 24 weeks.” She ran a hand over her stomach. 

“That accent. You’re not local, huh?”

“No ma’am.”

“Run away?”

Rory blinked at her, bewildered, before nodding slowly. “Hitchhiked here from Queens.”

“That’s a long way.”

“Had to get away.” Rory replied.

“Thought so. Alright kid.” Lady pointed at a beautiful Harley Davidson bike. “You think you can ride with that baggage? I promise I’ll go careful.”

Rory’s eyes widened at the sight of the Harley. She hadn’t ridden one for months. She nodded slowly.

“Then come on.” Lady smiled. “You can come and stay with me. I’m in the habit of taking in strays these days.” 

“Just like that?” Rory asked. “I could be anyone. I just tried to steal from that woman.”

“You tried to steal money because you’re hungry, I’ll bet. Ravenous. The little one inside you won’t let you rest. So I’ll give you food and you won’t have to steal it, and we’ll get you a bed.” Lady explained. “Besides, I can handle myself.” Lady said, handing her a helmet, “And something tells me you can handle yourself too.” 

Rory smiled minutely at her before mounting the bike and letting Lady ride away with her in tow, wondering where her life was heading now. 

****

Dinner that night was strained. Taylor was not happy with the new stray Lady had brought home. She tossed her newly dyed blue hair angrily over her shoulder and huffed in the hope someone would pick a fight. Taylor needed one. She had been here first, she was the one who Lady had introduced to the MC and started teaching how to ride.

Taylor couldn’t put her finger on it. Aurora or whatever the fuck her name was annoying her and she couldn’t pinpoint why. She had been here for weeks now and had had Lady to herself, and now this East coast broad was muscling in with her mistake loud and proud on her stomach. As Lady headed to the kitchen to start on the washing up, Taylor decided she had to show her who was boss or she figured she’d be pussyfooting around her the rest of their goddamn lives. She reached out across the table and made to take the last cannoli Lady had put in front of Rory specifically.

Quick as a flash, the girl had used her knife to stab between Taylor’s fingers with terrifying accuracy, rendering Taylor shocked and unable to move. 

“Listen here, _Blue_ ,” She spoke in a low, menacing hiss, “You touch my grub and I take your finger off, no questions asked, no refunds. Got it? You don’t mess with a Queens broad.” 

“Who died and made you queen?” Taylor spat back.

“My muddah.” Her Queens accent was strong enough to bring back the ghosts of dead mafia hits. She looked Taylor up and down. “All’s I know is we’re stuck here together and we gotta try and get on. The way I see it, we either make friends or we kill each other. I’ve known badass bitches like you my whole life, ones who know how to get what they want and don’t give a damn who they stomp on to get it. You think blue hair and new ink makes you tough? Honey, I grew up on the streets with the mafia for family.” Taylor had called it. “So how’s about I remove my knife and we split the last cannoli?” 

Taylor blinked at her. She had completely underestimated the skinny bitch from New York in the oversized Mets sweatshirt. She was tougher than she looked. Taylor nodded. 

“Yah, _Queenie_ , you got a deal.” Taylor said. As promised, Aurora removed the knife and used it to cut the cannoli expertly in half. She held it out to Taylor, who took it. 

“You know,” she said, “I like that. _Queenie_. I think I might use that from now on. Thanks, Taylor.” 

“Call me Blue.” Taylor winked.

A level of understanding passed between the two girls as Lady shook her head from the doorway. “Would you mind sorting out your difficulties without stabbing my table?” She said, tutting. 

“Sorry.” Queenie rubbed the mark on the tabletop. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Oops... I Did it Again - Britney Spears


	11. Season 1, Episode 4: Under the Surface (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a flashback, Queenie reflects on the time she had with Lady.

**1997**

It was storm season for sure. The rain that had been falling on and off for months had now turned into fully fledged thunderstorms. Blue laid on her back in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the thunder, when she heard the door creak open. 

“B.” Queenie said tentatively. “You awake?”

“Yeah.” Blue whispered back. Queenie shut the door and Blue watched her dim silhouette walk across the carpet and crawl into bed beside her. “Jesus, Queenie. Whale alert much.” Blue put a hand on Queenie’s enormous stomach to let her know how much room she didn’t have.

“Sorry.” Queenie said, repositioning herself into the foetal position and curling her arms and knees around her bump. She stroked it softly. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“It’s really active. Must be the storm.” Queenie replied. Blue rolled onto her side to face Queenie and put her hand back on Queenie’s stomach. She felt the baby kick her in response and smiled. 

“Sure it’s the baby and not just you worrying?” Blue asked skeptically. Queenie smiled in the semi-darkness.

“Bit of both.” She admitted. “It’s my due date on Monday.” 

“It’s all gonna be fine, Q.” Blue replied. 

“Is it?” Queenie said. “I’ve been through so much during this pregnancy. Not to mention its dad is a convicted felon. It’s not exactly had the best chance, has it?”

“Once it’s here none of it will matter.” Blue said reassuringly.

“I hope not.” Queenie replied. Blue could tell she was still worried. She felt for Queenie’s hand in the darkness and gave it a squeeze.

“Lady will be there, as will I. You’re not alone.” 

“Lady is going away with the Sirens for a few days. She told me just before she went to bed.”

“What for?”

“To find recruits or something she said. She’s gonna be gone a week.”

“Then the baby will just have to wait.” Blue said decisively. She poked Queenie’s stomach. “You hear me? You stay in there until your whole family can be there.”

Queenie seemed to be thinking something over. “You gonna join?” She asked eventually.

“What?”

“The Sirens. When you turn 16.” 

“I’ve thought about it.” Blue admitted. “What about you?”

“I’m gonna prospect in as soon as I’m over the birth. Lady said she’d sponsor me, and you if you wanted.” 

“I do want.” Blue said, deciding in the moment. 

“That’s two new recruits right there.” Queenie said. The baby kicked Blue again.

“Three.” Blue said, “If it’s a girl.” They both giggled. 

****

Lady only just made it back in time as Blue desperately called her from the back of the ambulance. They heard the bike pull up outside the window and the characteristic shouting that told them Lady was here. 

“She’s here, Q.” Blue glanced out the window to confirm before heading back to Queenie’s side where she lay panting in agony. 

“About fucking time.” Queenie cursed as she whined in pain. “I’m about to push a fricking demon through my vagina!” 

“Is that your mom?” The nurse asked as she eavesdropped on the conversation under the guise of checking Queenie’s vitals. 

“Yes.” Queenie and Blue said in unison. In the few short months they had known Lady she had already been more of a mom than their own specimens had ever been. Queenie cried out again. “Jesus, is this thing for real?” She lay back, panting. “Please tell me this is going to be over soon.”

“You’re nine centimetres,” The nurse confirmed, “So I would say so.” 

“Should we not be moving her to delivery?” Lady appeared in the doorway in full leathers. The nurse faltered as she looked at her, taking in her chopped hair and the enormous Siren on her kutte. Lady cocked her drawn eyebrow impatiently. “Well?”

“Er, not yet.” The nurse stuttered. “There isn’t a room available.”

“Bullshit not a room available.” Lady barged her way through to take Queenie’s free outstretched hand. “You’ll find Queenie a damn room and you’ll find it right now.”

“Yes ma’am.” The nurse swallowed hard and skirted around the edge of the room to escape, heading into the corridor and shouting, “I need a delivery room now!” as she did. Lady chuckled to herself as she stroked Queenie’s hair out of her sweaty forehead.

“And you wonder why everyone in this town is terrified of you.” Blue laughed incredulously. 

“It’s better to be feared than loved.” Lady shrugged. 

“I thought that was the other way around.” Queenie breathed through the pain. 

“It was until Clay Morrow showed me otherwise.” Lady spat on the ground and turned back to Queenie. “You’re doing great kid.” 

“Tell that to my pelvis.” Queenie cried out in pain again. “Nine centimetres my ass, this thing is coming.” 

“You should probably stop referring to it as ‘this thing’.” Blue pressed the panic button. 

“It’s gonna be a thing until it’s got goddamn genitalia.” Queenie grunted, sitting up and panting. “If I ever see Rufus again I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Maybe say that a little louder, Q, he probably didn’t hear you from New York.” Blue teased as Queenie shot her daggers. 

“I’m never letting this kid have sex.” Queenie growled. “No sex, no babies, no convicted felons for fathers.” She screamed again. “It’s coming! “

Everything moved quickly from there. Queenie was wheeled to the newly emptied delivery room with Lady at her side. Blue hung back to look through the door as the very best (and terrified) delivery staff on hand. For just short of thirty minutes Blue watched through the glass as Queenie tried to push. Blue knew something was wrong without having to be told. Even at fifteen she knew enough about birth to know fully dilated to baby was fairly quick yet there was still no sign of the baby. That was when Blue was pushed out of the way by a surgical team who had been called. Queenie was losing too much blood and the baby was stuck from what Blue could make out. For an agonising hour Blue watched as Lady was forced to don scrubs and the surgical team took over, slicing open Queenie and pulling out the baby. Blue watched as the bloody mess was dragged from Queenie’s body. Precious seconds ticked by with nothing. Blue clutched the door frame as she prayed to Queenie’s god. Then, thankfully, the baby let out a wail and was taken to be cleaned up whilst they stitched up Queenie. 

Blue sank shakily into a chair and thanked the God she didn’t believe in for hearing her prayers regardless. When she and Queenie had talked about birth it had been a fantasy of perfect labour, perfect baby. This only went to prove that nothing was ever to be taken for granted. 

An unknown of moments later as Blue fought her demons, and Lady appeared from the delivery room. She looked exhausted but was smiling. 

“How is she?” Blue got to her feet. 

“Queenie is doing perfectly. They had to sedate her in a hurry to avoid complications, so she’ll be out for a little while.” Lady explained.

“And her baby?” Blue held her breath. 

“It’s a girl.” Lady smiled. 

“I knew it.” Blue grinned back. “She’s healthy?”

“Apart from the fact the little monster got stuck and nearly cost her mom her life, yes.” 

“Was it really that close?” Blue said worriedly. 

“They’ve got her covered Blue.” Lady touched her cheek gently. “Queenie and the baby are going to be just fine.” She looked around. “Can’t say the same for Rufus though, I’m with Queenie on that one for lumbering her with such a traumatic labour.”

“Was it his fault?” Blue frowned. Lady laughed. 

“I’m kidding.” She pulled Blue in for a hug. “I’m heading home to grab a shower and bring Queenie back some fresh clothes. Do you want to come?” 

“I’ll stay here if that’s okay.” Blue looked to the room. “I don’t want Queenie to wake up alone. “

“They’re going to wheel her back to a room to recover.” Lady said with a smile. “It’ll be nice for her to wake up to you.” 

Blue nodded, knowing her purpose at present. Lady headed out of the hospital and Blue waited for them to move Queenie. When they did she took up vigil by her bedside. She was exhausted but she was sure it was nothing to how Queenie was feeling. Blue watched her sleep and wondered if she had made a decision about the baby. The last they had spoken she was determined to raise it. She wondered if that was still the case after the trauma of the birth. Blue hoped so. 

“Are you the sister?” A midwife whispered as Blue dozed in the chair. Blue sat up in the darkening room and nodded. For all intents and purposes she was now. The midwife was holding a pink bundle. She looked to where Queenie was still unconscious. “I wondered if Queenie was ready to meet her daughter properly but it seems not. Would you want to keep hold of her until Queenie wakes?” 

“Yes.” Blue breathed. The midwife smiled and handed the baby to Blue. She was tiny, much smaller than Blue had imagined. She had Queenie’s green eyes and dark hair, for which Blue was grateful on Queenie’s behalf. The midwife set about checking Queenie’s drip and tubes as Blue looked down at the baby and it looked back at her. “Hi little one.” She whispered. “I’m not your momma but I’m going to love you all the same.” 

Blue didn’t know how long she sat there looking down at the baby before Queenie woke up. 

“B.” Queenie said groggily, every inch of her aching. 

“Hey Q.” Blue looked up. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve gone ten rounds.” Queenie shifted herself up in the bed and cried out in pain. Blue moved, concerned, but Queenie shook her head. “I’m fine.” She would be fine. 

“Good.” Blue said, “Because there’s someone here who’s desperate to meet you for real.”

Blue got to her feet and held out the pink bundle as Queenie’s face lit up. Blue gently lay the baby in Queenie’s arms and sat back down again so Queenie could look at her daughter. 

“Hi.” Queenie whispered as she stroked the baby’s face. “Thanks for nearly killing me.” 

The baby yawned in response and Queenie smiled in spite of herself. She looked up at Blue. 

“Where’s Lady?”

“Went home to grab a few things.” Blue explained. Queenie nodded, turning back to her daughter.

“This doesn’t feel real.” Queenie shook her head. “It’s like there’s this fog.”

“It’s the drugs.” Blue explained. “Trust me.” There was a pause. “Do you have a name?” Blue asked. 

“Donatea.” Queenie replied. “Donatea Vincenza. It means patient conqueror.” 

“Perfect.” Lady’s voice came from the doorway. Queenie looked up with a smile as Blue moved to help relieve the bag from Lady. Lady walked over to Queenie and looked down at the baby. “Welcome to this mad, mad world Donatea.” She kissed her fingers and put them on the baby’s head. “You’re going to need all the patience in the world to deal with us.” 

Queenie and Blue chuckled. 

“The ladies are stopping by shortly to see how you’re doing.” Lady told Queenie. “They wanted to come now but I told them you should rest.”

“Thanks.” Queenie nodded. She frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay with us staying with you.” Queenie shrugged. “Me and Blue are one thing but a baby is something entirely different.” 

“Are you kidding?” Lady raised her eyebrows. “Queenie, you are not a quitter. You and the baby will remain under my roof and under the protection of the Sirens for as long as you want. Especially since you’ll be prospecting in once you’re recovered.” Lady’s eyes shone as Queenie looked at her. 

“I will.”

“The ladies voted you in this afternoon.” Lady smiled. Queenie grinned at her. “We expect you to keep our secrets. When you wear the kutte you are no longer you. You are a Siren, representative of all of us. You fuck up and we reserve the right to punish you.” 

“Of course.” Queenie agreed. “Thank you, Lady.” 

“Don’t let me down.” 

“I promise.” Queenie nodded. 

“You neither, Blue. You’ll be in as soon as you’re old enough.”

Blue beamed. “Thanks Lady.”

“And this little one as soon as she’s sixteen.” Lady looked back to the baby. “You’re all family now.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is a family.” Queenie said quietly. “All this because you took in a few strays.” Lady met her eyes. 

“You’ve got one kid.” Lady winked. “You’re not strays when you’re family.” She affirmed. “And one day you’ll take that on board too. Sometimes all someone needs is someone to believe in them.” 

Queenie and Blue grinned at Lady, the only mother either of them ever wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: This One's For You Girls - Martina McBride


	12. Season 1, Episode 4: Under the Surface (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Blue take on a new recruit in honour of everything Lady ever taught them. 
> 
> *Warning, contains misgendering language.

**2008**

Queenie pulled up to the cemetery and dismounted, removing her helmet and tossing her waves over her shoulder with a heavy heart. So much had changed in the last few years. Too much. 

Queenie made her way through the cemetery to the plot where Lady lay and removed her sunglasses as she reached it. The tombstone was simple, understated, but had the Siren etched into it as was custom. It stood beside the handful of Siren tombstones that had been erected after the massacre. Queenie sighed and squatted down in front of it in her leather trousers, her long shirt gracing the grass as she reached out to touch the tombstone. 

“Hey, mom.” She whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long to visit.” 

She crossed her legs and sat down on top of where Lady lady six feet below, her long ringed fingers still touching the marble. 

“So, it’s been three years. To the day. I still miss you a lot. I’m trying real hard to make you proud, though. The Sirens are doing okay. Or at least, I’m trying.” Queenie sighed. She always felt stupid talking to a gravestone, and there was so much she wanted to say, so much she had to confess. She took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say thank you for never giving up on me. I was a mess when you found me and took me in. We both were. And then what happened after…” She took a deep breath, “When I gave Donatea up and you didn’t for one second judge me about it. You knew I had to do it to give her her best chance and you didn’t try to talk me out of it. I’m so grateful for that, Lady. I know my life hasn’t been easy and I’ve made some real bad choices but you were always there when I fucked up and you didn’t judge.” She looked around again. “I sometimes wonder if I’ve fucked up again.” She shifted closer to the gravestone so she could lower her voice further. 

“I had to call Clay, Lady. I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve betrayed everything but the truth is… we need him. We can’t survive on our own. And I’m so sorry.” She hung her head. “We had no choice. Veneno killed everyone we loved. I need Clay. He’s distanced enough to be ruthless. We’re too deep into this. But I promise… As soon as they’ve helped us get rid of Veneno we will cut all ties again.” She paused, stroking moss from the marble. “He’s sorry for what it’s worth, for what he did to you.” Queenie sighed. “Not that it means all that much. There’s no going back now, what’s done is done, for everyone.” 

Queenie took a deep breath. “Anyway. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. I love you, Lady. Thank you for making me the woman I am. I hope I do you proud. I’m trying to follow in your footsteps, I really am. You just… you left some real big boots to fill.” 

Queenie got to her feet and leant down to gently kiss the tombstone. It wasn’t enough, not close, but it would have to do. She blinked back tears before replacing her sunglasses to cover them, walking away and back to her bike. 

**** 

Queenie reflected on everything Lady had ever taught her as she rode back from the cemetery. Blue was waiting for her outside the clubhouse, pushing herself off of the wall where she had been leaning.

“You been here long?” Queenie called as she pulled up.

“Nah, just got here.” Blue held out the pile of mail she had taken from the box. Queenie took it and offered Blue’s frown a smile. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Queenie nodded. “Ready to get back to work.”

“Good. That’s what Lady would want.”

“What’s that?” Queenie changed the subject and nodded at the pile of beercrates distributed outside the door.

“Order came early.”

“Bonnie not here?”

“No idea.” Blue shrugged.

“They should probably come inside.”

“Does that translate to ‘bring them inside Blue?’”

“If that’s what you heard?” Queenie shrugged.

Queenie entered  _ Cherry Pie _ with the mail in her hands. Blue was close behind her with her arms filled with crates of beer that she staggered to place on the bar before she dropped them. 

“I thought carrying this shit was why we had a prospect.” Blue grumbled as she flexed her gloved fingers. 

“Suck it up buttercup, we were all prospects once.” Queenie teased her. 

Blue glared at her and rolled her eyes. 

“You look like Lady when you do that.” Queenie giggled. Blue flipped her the bird. Queenie stuck out her pierced tongue and turned back to the mail. “Looks like playing vigilante worked out.” Queenie chirped as she held up the letter from the police department. 

“Damn straight.” Blue hitched herself onto the bar and reached up for a bottle opener. 

“Hey, Q.” Bonnie called as she came out from the back room. 

“Oh look, a wild prospect appears.” Blue grumbled. 

“Oh, you brought the beer in! I was just going to do that.” Bonnie didn’t seem to be picking up on the signals Blue was giving off. 

“You want that top rocker, prospect, start doing your job.” Blue grumbled. 

“What’s up Bonnie?” Queenie asked before Blue’s temper took over. Blue muttered to herself, tossing her blue hair over her shoulder and opening a beer as Queenie rolled her eyelined eyes at her. 

“There’s somebody who asked to speak with you.” 

“Me?” Queenie raised an eyebrow. “You gotta be a bit more specific than that, prospect.” 

“Sorry. I’m not sure how to be… he… she? They… are in church.” Bonnie tripped over her words with a confused look on her face. 

Queenie and Blue exchanged glances. 

“You just let them into church, prospect?” Blue said incredulously.

“He, they…” Bonnie shook her head, “Didn’t want to be in the way.”

“Why do you keep tripping up pronouns?” Queenie cocked her head. 

“You’ll see.” Bonnie said cryptically. 

“I think we should bring in Clay’s ‘punch the prospect’ rule.” Blue growled. 

“Don’t mention Clay Morrow in this clubhouse.” Queenie warned darkly. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Bonnie said breezily. 

“How long have you been here now? Do you want to survive to get that rocker?” Blue clenched her fist.

“Stop threatening the rookie, Blue.” Queenie put the mail on the counter and shrugged her kutte on, all business. “We’ve got a mysterious visitor in our throne room.” She set off in the direction of church. 

Blue grumbled and hopped down from the counter to follow Queenie, shrugging on her own kutte. 

Queenie turned to look from her to the beer and back. 

“What?” Blue shrugged. “It’s 5pm somewhere.”

“Professional.” Queenie scoffed with a shake of her head. 

“Fuck off.” Blue downed the rest of the beer and slammed the bottle down on the table. “Happy?”

“You know me bubs, I’m always happy.” Queenie said sarcastically as she wrapped her ringed fingers around the handle. 

“Put that beer away, prospect!” Blue shouted as she followed Queenie inside. 

The throne room was in darkness as they stepped inside and to start with it didn’t seem as though there was even anyone in there. As Queenie flicked on the light, however, it became clear why Bonnie had been struggling. 

They were met by a person of around mid-height with dark shaved hair and bright grey eyes who had been standing by the Wall of Arrests. They were wearing a cut-off Iron Maiden t-shirt with fishnet sleeves, red flannel shirt and ripped black jeans. At first glance it appeared the person was male, instantly putting Queenie’s guard up, but a scan down to their feet revealed a pair of buckled heeled boots that they tried to hide shyly behind each other. 

“Oh.” Blue and Queenie spoke together as the realisation hit them. 

“Hi Queenie, Blue. I’m so sorry to just come here like this.” The person said reverently.

“Do we know you?” Queenie asked. 

“Sorry. No, I don’t think so. My name is Ryan. Ryan Smith.” Ryan held out their hand to Queenie. The gesture was met with a raised eyebrow and so they retracted it. 

“How can we help you, Ryan?” Queenie had her eyes narrowed as she tried to work out what she was being confronted with. It was nothing to do with the person, simply the location and way at which she was being confronted. 

Queenie took her seat at the top of the table and Blue sank into her vice chair, gesturing for Ryan to sit opposite them. Ryan did and it was clear to see they were shaking as they clasped their fingers on the table in front of them. They wore a signet ring that they turned around their little finger anxiously. 

“I was told this was the place in Corona to come if you wanted to feel… accepted.” They shrugged slowly. 

“Told by who?” Blue asked.

Ryan turned to her before looking at the carved table-top. “It’s not hard to notice that I’m … different.” They gestured at themselves. “I guess I’m just looking for a place I can finally belong. Since I was a kid I’ve grown up around bikers and always told myself that one day that’d be me. Then a bunch of shit got in the way and…” Ryan sighed heavily and looked up again to look between Blue and Queenie. 

“What are you exactly?” Queenie asked before she could stop herself. 

“Q!” Blue snarled instantly. 

“I didn’t mean it that way! I just…” She turned back to Ryan, but Ryan smiled and shook their head. 

“It’s okay, I knew what you meant. You’d be surprised how many variants of that question exist.” 

Queenie made a gesture at Blue that read ‘see’. 

“I’m what’s known as non-binary. So I’m neither male nor female, really. I don’t feel like male nor female. I don’t feel connected to either of those terms. I’m the inbetween.” 

Queenie frowned but said nothing as she tried to process the concept. Blue pulled out her cigarettes from inside her kutte, both of them waiting for Ryan to continue. Ryan declined the offered cigarette as Blue lit one for herself. 

“Why are you here?” Blue asked. 

“I came here from San Jose in the search for somewhere I can just be me. I spoke to a couple of bikers on the way down and…” They sighed heavily, “Well… I’m not male enough for them. Then I heard about the Sirens. I’ve seen you guys at drives and stuff and always thought you all looked so... welcoming.” Ryan was twirling the ring again. “The way you’ve got each other's backs and stuff. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“If you’re not he or she, what do we call you?” Blue asked between drags. 

“They is fine.” Ryan nodded. “Or Ryan. I get he sometimes but… I know that won’t work here.” They looked over at the Wall of Arrests. 

“We are an all female club. It’s kind of our remit” Blue said with a sorrowful shrug. “I’m not sure we can help you.” 

“How long have you been riding?” Queenie cut across her. Blue frowned at the president. “Assuming you can. You don’t ride, you don’t vote.” She gestured at the sign above her on the wall. 

“Of course.” Ryan acknowledged the sign and shifted in their chair excitedly. “Since I was seven. Used to dirtbike and…” They hesitated as Blue and Queenie exchanged glances. “What?”

“We don’t care what gender you are, or aren’t, but dirt-biking is a  _ definite  _ no.” Blue informed Ryan, but she offered them a small smile. “That’s like taking a mini to a monster truck rally.” 

“I haven’t touched a dirt bike since I was a kid, don’t worry.” Ryan laughed. “I’ve ridden properly since I was eighteen, so… nine years give or take.” Ryan explained.

“You’re aware you’ll have to prospect. And you’ll probably face adversity for a while.”

“I’ve faced it my whole life.” Ryan said solemnly. 

Queenie looked sorrowfully at the tabletop as she fingered her gavel. 

Blue spoke up with a look to Queenie. “I’m still not sure we can help you. You need a sponsor.” Ryan frowned in question. “Your name has to be put forward by a member of the club.” Blue explained. “That member will be responsible for you throughout your prospect year. I can’t do it, I’ve already got Bonnie.” 

There was a heavy silence for a moment as Ryan looked between the two women, their heart sinking. They had been so close, travelled so far.

“I can.” Queenie said suddenly. Ryan’s eyes lit up as Blue stared at her.

“Q, you said you’d never put forth a prospect. The President isn’t supposed to...” Blue argued.

“Lady did. For both of us. Screw the rules the men made up. I’m only doing what she would have done.” Queenie was speaking only to Blue as Ryan looked between them, their heart in their mouth. She turned to Ryan. “If I’m putting my trust in you, Ryan, you’d better not let me down. I’m risking a lot for you if I do this.”

“I promise.” Ryan looked like a kid on Christmas. 

Queenie’s face was stern. “We expect you to keep our secrets. When you wear the kutte you are no longer you. You are a Siren, representative of all of us. You fuck up and we reserve the right to punish you.” 

“Noted.” Ryan said. “I fully accept that.” 

“The other clubs won’t be happy with this.” Blue was frowning at Queenie as she tried to work it through. 

“The other clubs can go fuck themselves.” Queenie raised her leather clad legs and crossed her ankles on the table. “This is my club. They’ve got theirs. They want to pick a fight, they can pick it with me. Everyone knows my dick is bigger. Metaphorically.” She turned back to Ryan. “Regardless of what Ryan identifies as, they are welcome in the Sirens. We’ve always been representative of anyone who doesn’t have a dick. That includes Ryan.” She hesitated. “You don’t have a dick, right?

“No mam.” Ryan said eagerly. 

“Well then. That doesn’t breach our rules.” She sat forward. “Fuck the other clubs. They’re all fat racist misogynistic old men. In my club we’re all human at the end of the day.” 

“That’s what Lady would have said.” Blue said reverently. Without needing to be told she stubbed out her cigarette and got to her feet. 

“I’m only doing what Lady would have done.” Queenie stated, swinging her legs off the table and holding out her hand for Ryan to shake. As Blue crossed to the cupboard and threw a leather kutte and ‘Prospect’ patch down on the table in front of Ryan, Queenie said: “Welcome to the Sirens, prospect.”

Ryan’s eyes filled with tears of joy as they looked between them both. “Really?”

“It’s not going to sew itself on.” Blue folded her arms and chuckled. Ryan nodded and bundled up the jacket and patch, stroking the mermaid on the back with trembling fingers. 

“From now on you’re family, kid.” Queenie said. “Anyone gives you shit you send them to us.” 

“All I ever wanted was a family who would accept me for me.” 

“Well, you got it now.” Blue said. 

Ryan smiled at them both in thanks. For the first time in a long time they felt at home. 

Queenie smiled as she looked over Ryan. Taking in strays was all Lady ever did. Now it felt she was repaying the favour. Blue caught her eye and gave her a small smile as she fully understood what was going through her mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I am not non-binary myself I wrote Ryan in consultation with a good friend of mine who is. They are teaching me how to be accepting and how to change my language, and in a show like Sons of Anarchy which was forward thinking itself in the transgender character of Venus, I thought it was really important to represent the Siren way.
> 
> Soundtrack of the chapter: Stay With Me - Sam Smith


	13. Season 1, Episode 5: Captivated (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back in town and Clay and Queenie have a lot of hostility. Queenie has been acting more unhinged and when something happens that sends her over the edge all fingers point to Clay.

The boys were back in town. 

Clay and his men rode into Corona at sunset as they prepared to take on Veñeno. The Mexican cartel had been quiet for a long time and it was beginning to scare Queenie. She knew they were planning something big and she wanted the big guns close in case they were needed. 

The Sirens were not happy about it and there had been talk that Queenie was losing her touch with it being the anniversary of Lady’s death. Blue was aware of the festering coup and made it her mission to act as a levy between Queenie and the other women of the club, even if it meant making peace with the Sons. Queenie had been there for her so many times in their lives together and it seemed she may be in need of a returned favour. 

Besides, she hadn’t been able to get Jax off her mind. Maybe having the Sons in the clubhouse wouldn’t be  _ all  _ bad. 

Blue surprised herself. Queenie had always been the flirt, the one who lusted after powerful men, even if she self-confessed that she ‘hated’ them. Blue had always been indifferent. So what did Jackson Teller have that was drawing her in. She was determined to find out and that meant keeping Queenie and Clay from killing each other.

“Play nice.” Blue whispered as the Sons pulled into the parking lot. 

Queenie clenched her jaw. “Only if he plays nice first.”

“That’s not how this works and you know it.” Blue warned her. “You’re the badass here, this is your turf. You put them in their place last time, you’ll do it again.” 

“Thanks mom.” Queenie shot her a look as Clay dismounted his bike and held out his arms. 

“If it’s not the Little Mermaids!” Clay taunted as he approached. Queenie set her jaw and forced herself to be civil. Clay knew how much they needed them and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. 

“You sure you don’t need a nap after your long drive grandpa?” Queenie’s eyebrow cocked and Blue snickered at her side. Queenie was back in control and that much was obvious. 

“Is that anyway to speak to your saviours?” Clay asked with an amused smirk on his smarmy face. His VP stepped up to his side. 

“Now, now children.” Jax said. “We’ve got more important things to do than your playground insults.” He caught Blue’s eye and gave her a small smile of understanding.

“Let’s just get this done.” Clay growled, stepping past where Queenie stood with her arms folded. Blue followed him, Jax behind her. 

“How’s it going Queenie?” The scot asked as he followed. 

Queenie waited as the Sons one by one entered the clubhouse. Her eyes briefly met Juice’s as they did and he smiled at her. She felt her heart skip a beat and she punched herself hard in the chest in anger. 

“Hey, you okay?” Tig was the last one and he put a hand on her arm in question. Queenie shrugged him off. 

“Fine.” She spat back. Tig rolled his eyes at her, smiling uncontrollably. 

“So much hostility in such a small package.” He teased. 

“Just shut up and get inside, Trager.” Queenie snarled. 

“Ooh baby, you know how I like it.” Tig dodged as she hit out at him, laughing. She swore at him, waiting for him to enter and then slamming the door behind them. 

Clay was holding court in the middle of the clubhouse as the Sirens listened with folded arms. Queenie pushed her way through the crowd to stand before him.

“The cavalry has arrived, ladies.” He was saying. He smirked at QUeenie. 

“Let’s get one thing clear, Clay.” Queenie’s lip curled as she bristled with anger. “You may think you have the power here because we had no choice but to call you in, but if you were all women this would be the same situation. This is nothing to do with gender or what’s between your goddamned legs, you got me? This is about two clubs working together to get rid of the poison infecting our home, killing it before it infects yours. Got it?” She squared up to Clay as he chewed his lip, amused. She could tell she was getting under his skin. “This is an agreement between two powerful clubs for the benefit of us all. You hear me?”

“I hear you, princess.” Clay’s eyes sparkled maliciously. “So what happens when your ladies want to reward my men for their part?” He looked into her eyes cooly as the Sons laughed and jostled each other. The Sirens remained silent. They knew what that statement would do to Queenie.

Queenie let out a fake laugh as she looked around, nodding along with the laughter from the men. Then, in one movement that made her own club cheer, she gripped Clay so hard between his legs so that he cried out in pain. “Maybe you’re not hearing me.” She snarled. “You or any of your men think you came here for pussy and you have my permission to find the nearest strip joint. We are not here to reward you for doing something you should do because you’re decent people, not because you think you’ll get action. You hear me, old man? You nor any of your men will not find any action in my clubhouse, understood? You and me will do this as equals or not at all.” She released him as he nodded, letting him retreat to make himself comfortable again. He scowled at her as the Sirens cheered and Queenie disinfected her hand. “Now, as equals, shall we come up with a plan?” 

Clay simply nodded as he glared at her. That move had been one of Lady’s and Queenie had learnt well from her mentor. 

“You good, Clay?” Tig asked as Queenie led the way into the throne room. 

“I’ll play nice,” Clay hissed, “But someone has to put Queen B in her place sooner or later.” 

“I dunno,” Tig shrugged, “Confidence is sexy.”

Clay glared at him. “She’d eat even you for breakfast.” Clay followed the group. 

“Counting on it.” Tig said to himself as he followed. 

****

After hours of deliberation it seemed they could not decide on the best plan of action. It was getting to the point where Clay and Queenie could not speak without trading insults and so Jax and Blue had called time on the discussion, deciding it best to let off some steam in the bar and come back to it tomorrow. Veñeno had been quiet for a long time, after all, it didn’t seem one night would make that much difference. Still, as a precaution, Queenie sent Phoenix to the country boundary line to keep watch all the same.

The music played loudly as the Sirens and Sons mingled. It seemed aside from Clay and Queenie everyone else seemed able to get on. Bobby set up a game of cards in the corner that drew in the same crowd it had the first time, Blue and Jax found themselves a quieter corner to get to know one another, Juice and Tig sat at the bar and Queenie spent time anywhere that wasn’t near Clay. They both had to cool off. 

“Queenie seems especially volatile this time.” Jax observed quietly to Blue. 

Blue looked over to where Queenie was talking to Black Widow in a hushed tone. “I hadn’t noticed.” She said sarcastically, sucking her teeth in concern. 

“Has something happened that we need to know about?” Jax frowned.

“Not anything unusual.” Blue shrugged. “She’s been a bit off since last week. She’s been spending a lot of time in the throne room.”

“What happened last week?” Jax asked.

“It was three years since Lady died.” Blue met his eye. 

“Oh.” Jax nodded. “I’m sorry. I know you were both close with her.”

“Queenie was closer than I was.” Blue sighed. “It hit us both hard but we have different ways of coping. For me I just want to get on with it. Queenie… she pushes things down and they come out as volatility.” Queenie was talking to Chibs and Tig now in the middle of the room. From the looks of it she was a few drinks deep and Blue knew she had to keep her wits about her for them both. 

Jax nodded understandingly. “That sounds like my mom.” 

Blue flinched and Jax realised. 

“Shit, sorry. That was probably insensitive given we were just talking about Lady.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Blue shrugged. “Lady never blamed Gemma.” 

“She should.” Jax said darkly. He looked over to Queenie again as he sipped his beer. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“She’ll mellow.” Blue explained. “She’ll spend the night with a tailchaser and vent it out.”

“Tailchaser?” Jax raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Escort.” Blue swallowed. “Queenie has connections, men who love serving the Sirens.” Blue looked anxiously over to where Queenie accepted a drink from Juice.

“We’ve got crow-eaters in Charming.” Jax nodded.

Blue looked at him carefully, sipping her beer. “Do you go for that?” She asked without meeting his eye. 

Jax smirked, realising there was jealousy in her voice. “No.” He shook his head. “I, er, I have a… a Tara.”

Blue’s heart sank. “Oh.” She looked away from him. “I didn’t realise.” 

Jax knew he had overstepped the mark. “I’m thinking of leaving her though.” He said quickly. Blue looked back at him. 

“Why?”

“She was everything I wanted when I was sixteen.” He looked carefully at Blue’s eyes, tellingly. “But I’m not sixteen anymore. I don’t want a girl. I want a woman.”

Blue took a deep breath, reading the subtext in his tone. She wanted to tell him she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, tell him she could be that woman, but the scratch of the record changing broke her from it. She looked over to where Queenie was climbing on the bar with the help of Tig as  _ Cherry Pie  _ started to play over the speakers. It seemed more than a few of them were quite drunk.

“Is this what you want, Clay? Is this what you think we are?!” Queenie shouted as she started dancing. 

“Shit.” Blue looked apologetically to Jax as they both hurried to their feet and over to the bar where Queenie was holding council. She had always been a good dancer, the things she could do with her body… “Queenie!” Blue shouted, “Get the fuck down!”

“Blue!” Queenie held out her arms. “Join me, won’t you!”

“No!” Blue tried to grab her ankle as the Sons and Sirens alike cheered her on. 

“Why?! This is what Clay thinks of us!” Queenie’s speech was uncharacteristically slurred. This woman was a professional functional alcoholic, she very rarely got so drunk that she let down her walls. Something was wrong. 

“Queenie!” Blue swore at her as Queenie started unbuttoning her shirt. “Bonnie, kill the stereo will you!”

Bonnie obliged and Queenie pouted. 

“You killed my jam.”

“Before you kill yourself.” Blue pulled Queenie down from the bar. “Shows over folks, fuck off.” Blue slumped Queenie in a booth as she deadweighted and giggled. 

“Quite a President you’ve got there.” Clay smirked from his seat at the bar, satisfied. Blue glared at him and pulled Queenie into a sitting position, clutching her cheeks hard to look into her eyes. 

“Q.” Blue frowned. This was so unlike her it was suspicious. “Q, where were you born.” 

“I wasn’t born, I was created.” Queenie replied dreamily, giggling. Blue released her face and she slumped back in the booth, laughing to herself. If anyone knew the signs it was Blue.

“She’s been drugged.” Blue concluded, looking to where the Sirens and Sons were watching on. The surprise in the air cut have been cut with a knife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Cherry Pie - Warrant


	14. Season 1, Episode 5: Captivated (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens find themselves picked off one by one and Blue bites back. 
> 
> *Contains reference to real life political state of America and race-crime.  
> https://www.change.org/p/kentucky-justice-for-breona-taylor  
> BLM.

“What do you mean drugged?” Chibs asked. 

“Which drink was hers?” Blue demanded as she left Queenie on the booth and turned to the room. 

“Er, that one.” Juice pointed to the bottle on the bar. 

“Who gave it to her?” Blue was beyond angry. 

“I did.” Juice stammered. 

“The fuck, Juice?” Tig asked. “I know you like her man but…”

“I didn’t do anything to it!” Juice argued. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Blue picked up the bottle to inspect it. There was no sign of tablet in it but then that meant nothing. “Well somebody did.” Blue looked around the room. “Who was it?”

Chibs climbed into the booth beside Queenie to check her medically. 

“Other than a rough headache tomorrow she should be okay.” He concluded. He clicked his fingers at Tig. “Water, now.” Tig obliged, stepping behind the bar. Black Widow followed him to help. 

“Where did you get the drink from, Juice?” Jax asked. 

“Clay gave me it.” Juice explained. “From behind the bar.” 

There was a deathly silence as everyone turned to Clay. Clay looked back at them all cooly. 

“Man, I know you didn’t get on with her but…” Bobby started but Clay shook his head. 

“I didn’t do anything.” He held his hands up. “You’re right that I don’t particularly like the girl,” All Sirens in the room bristled, “But I wouldn’t do that when we’re working together so harmoniously.”

“It does seem a bit low,” Tig said quietly to Jax as he handed Chibs the water, “Even for Clay.” 

Jax pursed his lips. “You got it from behind the bar?” He took the bottle from Blue. “It’s a bottle,” He explained as Blue frowned at him. “It might have been sealed.” He turned to Clay. “Was it?” 

“She removed the cap.” Clay pointed to Black Widow. Black Widow reacted as though slapped. 

“Are you saying I drugged my own President?” She bristled. 

“Well who else could have done it?” Jax shouted. “It’s one of you three?!” 

“Has it occurred to anyone that those bottles are delivered?” Black Widow looked between them all. “And Veñeno are literally out to get us? Drugs are kind of their remit.” 

A look passed between them all as Clay shook his head. 

“I can’t believe you all thought I’d do that.” He said. 

“Can it, Morrow.” Blue put down the bottle and crossed to Queenie to check on her. “She’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Chibs confirmed. “It wasn’t a high enough dose to do harm I don’t think.”

“I want Veñeno dead, and I want them dead now.” Blue snarled. She turned to the the Sirens. “Throne room. We vote on this plan of action.”

“Phoenix and Ryan aren’t here.” Ginger explained. 

“Where’s Ryan?” Blue looked around. 

“We sent them to replace Phoenix, didn’t think she should be out there all night.” Angel explained. 

“So you sent the newbie?” Blue frowned. Angel scowled as Blue shook her head. “Engage your brains guys, please.” She turned to Black Widow. “Call Phoenix. Get her back.” 

“On it.” Black Widow pulled out her burner and dialled. 

Blue shrugged off her jacket and placed it over Queenie for warmth. 

“There’s no answer from Phoenix.” Black Widow confirmed. 

“Then call Ryan. Tell them to hurry, we need everyone here now for a vote.” Blue ordered but before Black Widow could dial her own cell began to ring. Blue frowned at it as Ryan’s number flashed up. “Prospect.” She said, “I need you…”

“Phoenix has been attacked.” Ryan said over the phone. Blue reacted as though slapped. 

“I’m sorry?” She demanded as all eyes turned to her. 

“I’ve called the police.”

“What the fuck?” Blue ran her hand down her face. “When did that happen?”

“I don’t know. Not long.” Ryan explained. “She’s alive. They’re taking her to hospital after they’ve taken photos.”

“Photos?” Blue was pulling on her kutte as the people around her bombarded her with questions that she was ignoring. 

“It’s… it’s not nice, Blue. It’s… there’s a word written in… in blood.” Ryan stammered. 

Blue stopped in horror. “What word?” She asked. 

“I don’t want to say.” Ryan whispered. Blue knew what it was without having to hear. 

“Try.” She said with a dry mouth. 

“Negro.” Ryan swallowed hard. There was a pause as Blue closed her eyes. “What should I do?”

“Go to the hospital with her.” Blue ordered. “Don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll be right there.” Blue hung up and addressed the questions being thrown at her. 

“What happened? Where’s Phoenix? What’s going on?”

“Phoenix has been attached and a racial slur written in her blood.” Blue swallowed hard. “This playground squabble stops now. I’m going to the hospital to see Phoenix, Ginger is going with me. Widow, you’re in charge.” Blue ordered. “Don’t let anyone else get attacked whilst I’m gone.” Blue faltered as she looked to Clay. “Just because you didn’t do it this time doesn’t mean you didn’t think it.” She heard Queenie in her tone, “I don’t want a word out of you until I’m back.” She spoke as threateningly as she possibly could. She met Jax’s eye and begged him silently to keep Clay in line before turning and exiting, Ginger right behind her.

****

Ryan was covered in blood as Blue and Ginger approached them in the waiting room. 

“Where is she?” Blue demanded. 

“She’s just come out of surgery.” Ryan stammered. “She was stabbed four times.” 

“But she’ll live?” Ginger asked worriedly. 

“They think so.” Ryan swallowed hard. “Who did this, Blue?”

“Veñeno.” Blue explained. “It has to be.”

“Are you sure, Blue?” Ginger asked. “Sure it wasn’t just a race-crime?”

“I’m sure. They drug our beer and attack Phoenix on the border. Queenie was right, this is gearing up to the showdown we’ve been waiting for.” Blue ran her hand over her face as she always did when she was exasperated. “Right. We need to handle this. No police.” 

She heard the radio behind her before she saw it. “Ryan, go home. You’ve done enough. Thank you.” Ryan nodded and retreated. “Ginger, go and keep watch over Phoenix. Anything happens you shout me.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Remind Willy who deals with crime in this town, and it’s not the police.” Blue looked over to where the policemen stood in a huddle. “This is going to get ugly and I need it kept out of the record.” She looked at the floor. “Not that they’ll do anything for Phoenix anyway, but that’s another story.” Blue swept her hair over her shoulders and nodded determinedly at Ginger before crossing to Chief Wilson. 

“I wondered when you would come.” Wilson looked around. “Where’s Queenie.”

“Otherwise engaged.” Blue was not about to explain. “You know this is Veñeno right?”

“I had a hunch.”

“And you know that’s our business.” Blue continued. 

“It happened within the city boundaries, Blue. It’s our duty to…”

“Find the culprit?” Blue asked. “You’ve done that. Write ‘crime gang’ in the report and be done with it.” 

“I can’t just leave it…” Wilson argued but Blue folded her arms. 

“Yes you can, and you’re going to.” Blue shook her head. “It’s Siren business, Willy. No one will blame you for walking away.”

“It’s my duty…” Wilson started to argue. 

“Let’s face it.” Blue clenched her jaw as she spoke home truths. “Every day in this country blacks are attacked and white policemen do nothing.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right!” Wilson said, shocked. 

“No.” Blue shook her head, “Of course it’s not. It’s far from right. But right now I need you to step back. We’re handling Veñeno. You just keep Phoenix safe whilst she recovers. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” WIlson swallowed hard. He shook his head. “Why would they go after Phoenix? It can’t be the colour of her skin.”

“They’re trying to make us weak, to put a chink in our armour.” Blue growled. “It’s having the opposite effect. We come back stronger. Just don’t get in our way, Willy.”

Wilson nodded, the fire in Blue’s eyes enough to convince him that going against everything he believed would be worth it. 

“You’re one of the good guys, Willy.” Blue clapped him on the arm. “You have our thanks.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Straight Jacket - Theory of a Deadman)


	15. Season 1, Episode 5: Captivated (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens and Sons come up with a plan of attack.

Queenie’s head was literally on fire when she managed to blink her heavy eyes open. She felt like she’d gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali and groaned as she tried to sit up. Judging by the lights and feel of the couch she was in the backroom of the clubhouse. 

“Hey, take it easy.” A voice said, taking her in his arms and helping her sit up. 

Queenie blinked blurrily at the face of Juice. It took her a moment to realise she couldn’t remember anything about how she had got to this point or why he was there. 

“You passed out.” Juice explained as he watched her carefully. 

Queenie put a hand to her head. She knew this feeling. She had felt it once before and it had not ended well. A flash in her mind brought back memories of Juice the night before handing her a drink and saying they should talk some time. Juice handed her an aspirin and a glass of water as she tried to make sense of what had happened. 

“Did you drug me?” She asked incredulously as he put the tablets in her hand. She didn’t take them as she stared at him. 

“What?” Juice asked, “No.” He shook his head, holding his hands up to show he had had nothing to do with it,. “I swear on my mothers life.” 

“That means nothing to me.” Queenie snarled groggily. “I don’t even know if your mom’s alive.”

“She is.” Juice said. “I promise.” He held up the aspirin bottle to show her what it was.

Queenie narrowed her eyes at him. Something about him told her she could trust him, and really she hadn’t thought him capable of such a thing from the small encounters they had had. She couldn’t stop thinking about him after all, he had gotten under her skin in a way she never thought possible.

“If you didn’t drug then what happened?” Queenie asked as she took the tablets for her pounding head and sat back with her eyes closed. 

“Veneño.” Juice said by way of explanation. Her eyes snapped open and she stared at him. 

“What?!”

“That’s what er, Widow? That’s what she said. The somehow drugged the bottles and you just happened to get one of the drugged ones.” Juice explained. 

Queenie frowned at him. “Widow said?” She scoffed. “Bullshit. Impossible. We’re friends with the supplier, the bottles come sealed. They would never betray us to Veneño.” Queenie shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Either way you were drugged, Queenie, and it wasn’t anyone in the clubhouse.” 

“You checked in with your Lord and saviour?” Queenie asked. 

“Clay?” Juice frowned. “We’ve been through everything that went on last night. Blue was determined…” 

“Blue?” Queenie looked around the rec room. “Where is she?” 

“Getting ready for church.” Juice explained. “Um, your Sgt got attacked shortly after you passed out.” 

Queenie stared. “What? Phoenix, where is she?”

“Erm, hospital.” Juice nodded. “She’s alive. They um, Blue stayed with her. They wrote… it was set up as a race crime.” 

“Who attacked her?” Queenie demanded. 

“From what Blue said… Veneño.” Juice said. “They’ve been talking about it all morning.” 

“Without you?” Queenie raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Someone had to stay with you.”

“Why did you get the babysitting short straw?” Queenie scowled at him. He had a demeanour around him that she couldn’t seem to get past. 

“I volunteered to stay with you.” Juice explained. 

“Why?” Queenie finished the water without taking her eyes off him. “Bit above prospect aren’t you?”

Juice shrugged. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Why?” Queenie asked again, shaking her head. “I’m not worth it.”

“Of course you are.” Juice frowned at her as though it was obvious. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”

“You met many women, Juice?” Queenie asked before she could stop herself. She hadn’t meant it and the hurt in his eyes hurt her back. She faltered. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Juice shrugged. “I get it a lot. I’m a nice guy so women don’t usually… they go for Tig or Jax.” 

“Nice guys finish last.” Queenie said with a hint of sympathy in her voice as she looked at him. 

“So I’ve been told.” Juice smiled at her. She found herself smiling back for a moment before catching herself and making to stand. 

“I should get to church.” She said weakly. Her knees shook and Juice stood to help her to her feet. He had strong arms for such a chubby man. Queenie met his eye for a moment and found the breath knocked out of her. She blinked it away and shook the feelings off, letting him help her out of the rec room until she got the strength in her legs to stand. By the time they reached the throne room she was able to walk alone. The bar was empty and the noise came from inside as Queenie pushed open the door. 

“We can’t just rush in…!” Blue tailed off as she saw Queenie and hurriedly stood from the President’s chair so Queenie could sink into it. “How are you doing?”

“I got drugged, I woke up to learn Veneño attacked Phoenix and drugged me and I want the fuckers dead.” Queenie replied as she took her chair. There was a moment as she caught Juice’s eye and returned the smile he gave her before forcing herself to focus. 

“Our sentiments exactly.” Clay said from opposite her on the table. Blue sat in her VP chair as Queenie turned to Clay. He smiled at her. “Glad to see you up and about. It’s not the same without you.”

“If this is going to work Morrow,” Queenie said menacingly, “You and me gotta be on the same page. No snipes about gender, no dick jokes, nuttin. Phoenix was attacked and that leaves us vulnerable. Without my Sgt at Arms Veneño are expecting us to be weak. We gotta show them otherwise, gotta show them they can’t mess with us, we’ve got powerful friends. It’s gotta be two Presidents working together to stamp out the plague that’s sweeping life as we know it.”

“Agreed.” Clay nodded. “So what’s our play, Pres?”

“How’s Phoenix doing?” Queenie turned to Blue. 

“When I left this morning Diana was there. She’s being dismissed to Diana’s care.” Blue sighed. “She’s not good, Q. I doubt she’ll be back anytime soon.” Queenie nodded and met Clay’s eye and then Tig’s. 

“Your Sgt at Arms any good?” Queenie’s eyes burned into Tig’s as he smiled cockily back at her. 

“You know it baby.” Tig winked. The Sirens frowned as Queenie didn’t go ballistic at him but instead simply nodded. She must still be drugged. 

“The best thing to do will be to draw them out. We contact Fuego, we demand a meeting…” Queenie frowned as she considered her options. “I tell him we surrender.” 

The Sirens erupted until Queenie banged the gavel for silence. 

“I said we tell him, I didn’t say it was true!” She shouted. The command she held was to be marvelled. “Get you heads out your asses or we stand no chance.” 

The Sirens bubbled down again. Tensions were high. 

“We draw him out in the desert. It’s his turf, he won’t expect an ambush. We cut the head off the snake in its own bed.” Queenie said. There were nods of approval. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Clay said approvingly. “I see much of Lady in you.” Queenie sucked her teeth in response. She didn’t want his approval and him simply mentioning her name… Queenie knew it was a test and she was determined to pass it. 

The rest of the meeting was spent in the details and soon they had a plan. The Sons and Sirens were getting better at business together. They had started to learn how they both ticked. Clay and Queenie had reached an understanding and as a result business moved quicker. They had a plan in place for the upcoming Veneno assault. Things were moving quickly, but they were important to be swift. Time was not their friend. After Colt, Jane and now this attack on Phoenix they couldn’t take anymore risks. 

Queenie did not feel content. Demons were filling her thoughts and she knew it was only so long before she came completely unwravelled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: A Change is Gonna Come - Sam Cooke


	16. Season 1, Episode 6: The Abyss (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Blue let off some steam before the impending Veneno showdown and wind up getting more than they counted on from certain members of the Sons of Anarchy MC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains recreational drug and alcohol use

The air was thick with fumes as Blue coughed the contents of her high back out of her lungs and held the smoking joint out to Queenie, and then her empty glass. Queenie, dressed in simply her pants and an oversized Mets jersey, took the joint and stuck it between her teeth as she poured a triple bourbon into Blue’s waiting glass, right to the top. Blue reacted with a jerk as it began to overflow and fell on Queenie’s bare foot. They both laughed as Queenie demonstrated her hidden talent to lick the Jack off of her own foot, the spliff back in her fingers. 

“What?” Queenie shrugged with a hysterical laugh as Blue cheered her on. “I’m not wasting it!” 

“No wonder your booty call list as long as my arm.” Blue said, thrusting her arm out and taking the spliff from Queenie’s lips to drag on it herself. “Girl got flex.” Queenie flexed the muscle of her bicep. 

“Shame I broke things off with Quad.” Queenie said in a mock-mournful voice. “He’s like a little puppy and he’s so enraptured, I can’t have it. I’m bad news. I’ll miss him though.”

“He’ll still be there when you need your next fix.” Blue laughed at her friend.

“Nah, I have bigger fish to fry.” She took a long, wise sip. “Speaking of booty call.” Queenie said thoughtfully. “Sons of Anarchy, fuck, marry, kill and kiss.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the game.” Blue nudged her with her foot. “You sure you wanna discuss that?”

“Fuck off, it is now.” Queenie said. “Yes. You don’t think they’ve played this with the Sirens? Answer it.” 

“Okay, so… fuck… Opie.” 

“Opie, really?”

“Have you seen him? He’d be a fucking good lay. Mournful, but dominant.”

“Alright.” Queenie laughed. 

“I’d marry Bobby. He’d treat me good.” Blue frowned, clearly overthinking things. “I’d kill Clay. Just for existing.”

“Shit Blue.” Queenie nudged her. “Don’t let him know that.” She giggled. “But I agree.”

“I knew you would.” Blue took another long drag. 

“Who would you kiss?”

Blue fell quiet. There was only one member of the Sons that she would kiss, or marry, or fuck for that matter. 

“Jax.” She said. 

“Oh yeah,” Queenie nodded. “He’s got a nice set of lips.”

“Firm but tender.” Blue laughed. Thankfully Queenie was too high to notice the genuine reasoning behind her answer.

“Awh,” Queenie was struck with sudden inspiration, “Bobby could serenade you up the aisle…” She put on a mock-Elvis voice, “ _ Love me tender, love me sweet….”  _ She dissolved in laughter.

“What about you?” Blue asked, fluttering her eyelashes and interrupting Queenie’s serenade. 

“Well...” Queenie started, but stopped as Blue spoke. 

“No wait,” Blue said, interrupting Queenie. “I know your answers. Fuck, Tig. Kiss, Tig. Kill, Tig.” 

“Why would I fuck him and then kill him?” Queenie took the stub of the spliff from Blue as she challenged her. “Do I look like Black Widow to you?”

“You have met him, right?” Blue laughed. “I think you’d marry…”

“If you say Tig I’m going to kill  _ you _ .” Queenie took a thoughtful drag. “I’d marry Juice.” She caught herself, surprised that the words had escaped her lips. She hadn’t admitted that out loud to anyone. 

“Juice? Really?” Blue sounded genuinely amazed.

“You needn’t sound so shocked.” Queenie kicked her. “He’s…” She shrugged half-heartedly. “Sweet. The type you take home to Momma.” She blew out. “If I still had my Momma.” 

“Plus he’s latin and you know what they say about latinos… big...” Blue paused dramatically. “Feet!” She fell about laughing at her own joke. Queenie chuckled, trying not to think about Juice’s big… feet… as she pulled her escaping neckline back over her shoulder, sitting forward on the couch to roll another spliff. 

“You know I’ve already fucked Tig.” Queenie said matter-of-factly. Blue gasped dramatically.

“No! When?”

“When I was a ‘lady of the night’.” 

“Get out of town!” Blue shrieked. “Was he good?!”

Queenie shrugged. “Eh.” She said, then laughed. Blue shook her head at Queenie and shoved her gently. Queenie let the laughter die down as she carefully rolled the joint. “This is good shit.” She said, pausing only to down the entire contents of her own triple in one and nod at Blue. “I doth my cap to you, my lady.” 

“What else are tits for if not bribing drug dealers?” Blue shrugged, leaning back on the arm of the couch and taking a long drag, her eyes closed. 

“If anyone knew we were doing this we’d be out of the club.” Queenie said, lighting the new spliff and taking a triumphant drag. 

“Let them try.” Blue said, holding up her pistol. “They can’t fire the Pres and the VP.”

“Shit, Blue.” Queenie said, kicking the gun out of her hand. “Maybe not until we’re sober, yeah?” 

“Aye aye, Pres.” Blue said with a salute. She took another long drag of the stub that was left. “This  _ is  _ good shit.” She agreed with a loose nod. The stereo switched to Joan Jett’s  _ Bad Reputation  _ and Blue began banging her head back and forth to the beat, her hair flying everywhere. “No, THIS is the good shit.” She said to the music. She proceeded to sing the first lines loud and off key. As the beat kicked in Blue jumped to her feet and began to air-drum, using Queenie’s shoulder as leverage. Her drink spilled over her hand and she paused, still standing on the couch, to down it, and then proceeded to continue air-drumming. Queenie clambered up to sit on the arm of the couch and out of shower range. She went to pour herself another glass but instead finished the bottle. 

“We’re out.” Queenie said, rolling off the couch clumsily, putting the spliff in the tray and crossing to the liquor cabinet. Her apartment wasn’t enormous, and she could still see Blue on the couch as she struggled with the bottle-cap on the second bottle of Jack. The cap from the freshly opened first bottle laid next to the sink. “Fuck.” She said, picking it up and staggering with a giggle. “We’ve finished a whole bottle of Jack.” 

Blue didn’t listen, too busy air-drumming. Queenie just laughed at her and swigged from the bottle. Her eyes fell on the camera feed linked to her front door. 

“Hey!” She shouted, waving at Blue to get her attention and then at the monitor as though those outside could see her. “Hey! It’s the guys!” 

“Which guys?” Blue asked, collapsing on her stomach on the couch and picking up the new spliff. 

Queenie squinted at the monitor, leaning in really close. It was hard to tell without her glasses, or behind the beer goggles. “I think it’s Tig, Chibs and Bobby?” 

“Let them in!” Blue shouted hysterically. She rolled over the back of the couch to the window, pushing the drapes back and standing in full view of the glass, and Queenie’s window was ceiling to floor. She banged on the glass so the guys looked up at her, nudging each other like schoolboys and laughing. “Hey!” Blue shouted as Queenie buzzed the door. “Hey! She’s let you in!” 

Tig made a gesture as if to say ‘we got it, thanks’ and a thumbs up as Chibs and Bobby headed inside. 

Blue turned back to Queenie, ridiculously excited. “Should we be worried?” Blue held up the spliff. Queenie thought for a moment, frowned, and then shrugged.

“They ain’t gonna rat.” She said, as there was a knock on the door. She opened it in her jersey, bottle in hand, and threw her arms wide to a bewildered trio of Sons. “Fellas!” She shouted and kissed each of them on the cheek. “Welcome!” 

“How did you know where we were?” Blue asked, sitting back on the couch and patting the seat beside her. Chibs took it, with Bobby squeezing into the armchair and gesturing for a drag on the cigarette. 

“Queenie text.” Tig said, accepting the three new glasses from Queenie. 

“I did?” Queenie asked, frowning, then laughing through her speech, “Shit.” Tig laughed at her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…” He looked her up and down, “Mellow?” 

“Get used to it tiger.” Queenie winked and headed back to the group. 

“You girls smoking dope?” Bobby asked, sniffing the cigarette Blue had just handed her. “Sorry…  _ ladies _ .” 

“You bet we are.” Queenie said, before pressing her finger to her lips and drawing out the ‘shhhh’ sound through her giggle. Bobby laughed at her and turned to Chibs, shrugging. “If we’re gonna die I’m gonna go down swinging.”

“I like them this way.” He chuckled, dragging the joint himself. Chibs shook his head with a smile on his face as Bobby passed him the spliff. 

“Don’t you have a zero drugs policy?” He asked. Queenie perched on the couch arm and raised her eyebrow comically at him. 

“Don’t you?” She said, attempting to pour bourbons for them. 

“Touche.” Chibs said as Tig took the bottle from Queenie’s shaking hands. 

“Here darlin’, don’t hurt yourself.” Tig said with a smirk. 

Queenie smiled at him and ran her hand over his chin. “Thanks doll.” 

Tig raised an eyebrow and handed Chibs and Bobby the drinks, before swigging the bottle himself. He looked around for a place to sit, settling on the spinny office chair attached to Queenie’s desk. He looked around the room as Queenie passed him the spliff she had taken from Chibs. 

“Nice place.” 

“Thanks.” Queenie said with a wink. Tig shook his head incredulously at her and chuckled. 

The evening passed companionably and slowly but surely the guys got as high and drunk as Queenie. Perhaps not quite as drunk as Queenie, but she was used to a high-level of substance abuse and so could hold twice as much as regular folk. Bobby had helped himself to Queenie’s old acoustic and was strumming it gently, the CD having long since played out. He sang under his breath as Queenie, now sitting on the floor with her back against the couch and her feet up on Tig’s knee whilst he gave her a foot-rub, swayed along to the music. After a while Blue leant against Chibs’ shoulder and ran a fingertip over his scars. 

“Why so serious?” She asked. 

Chibs chuckled and gently removed her hand. “Glasgow smile, love.” He said. “Got sliced and diced, courtesy of an Irish prick we know.” 

“I’ve never had Irish prick.” Queenie mused quietly as she went to swig from the bottle. 

Tig leant down and took it gently from her. “Okay. I think you’ve had enough.”

“Fuck you.” Queenie said, suddenly aggressive, if clumsy as she got to her feet and made to snatch it back. “You’re not my dad.” 

The rest of the group laughed as Queenie snatched back the bottle. Tig held his hands up in surrender and laughed along with them. Triumphantly, though very unsteady on her feet, Queenie made to sit back down but instead staggered and ended up on Tig’s knee. He smirked at her as she wrapped her arm around his neck. 

“Do you wanna know what I want for Christmas?” Queenie slurred, laughing at her own joke. Tig shook his head at her. There was something about Queenie that made him want to fuck her senseless, even sober. Now his inhibitions were lowered it was a whole other ballgame. She didn’t make any attempt to move but instead hooked her legs over the arm of the office chair, settling in for comfort. Tig didn’t need asking twice. He hooked one arm around her waist and the other hand he placed on her knee, just above her thigh. She didn’t protest. 

“What do you want for Christmas?” Tig asked, his mischievous blue eyes sparkling dangerously as she looked deep into them. 

There was a pause in which they seemed to be in their own little bubble, and then she handed him the bottle and announced loudly, “I need to piss.” She swung her legs out of Tig’s grip before he could stop her and staggered to her feet again. At this point she didn’t know if she was more high or more drunk as she crashed into the desk on her way to the bathroom. Tig put down the bottle and got hurriedly to his feet to steady her. He was wasted himself but he had a larger body mass to absorb it all easier. 

“Have a good one!” Blue called cheerily, swinging her own legs over Chib’s knees and taking the joint from his fingers, as Queenie reached the bathroom door, Tig’s hands still on her hips. 

“How much of this have you got?” Chibs asked as he gestured to the still half-full bag on the coffee table. 

“Enough to bake brownies.” Blue mused. In the bathroom doorway Queenie gasped and suddenly turned back into the room as though a great idea had struck her. 

“We should make brownies!” She cried excitedly. Tig was blocking her way into the main apartment and she put her hands on his chest in her excitement. 

“There is no way you are going near an oven.” He said with a chuckle. “I thought you needed to piss?”

“Oh yeah.” Queenie said with a thoughtful frown. She patted him on the chest. “You stay here. I’m not so far gone that I can’t piss by myself.” She disappeared into the bathroom decidedly as Tig turned back to the room at large. Chibs and Blue were locked in a quiet and intense conversation on the couch, her fingers twirling the beads around his neck. 

Bobby shook his head as he changed song. “She’s way out of your league, Tiggy.” He said as though reading Tig’s mind. 

“Who?” Tig asked not-at-all convincingly. Bobby simply raised a bushy eyebrow at him and began to sing Elvis’s  _ Devil in Disguise.  _ Tig folded his arms and leant against the pillar that held up Queenie’s mezzanine bedroom. “You saying I couldn’t get with a woman like that?” Tig challenged. Bobby just looked at him. Tig smirked to himself. Little did Bobby know, or anyone else for that matter, he already had. “I’m going to see if she’s okay.” Tig said, turning back to the bathroom door, knocking and stepping inside. As Bobby was singing he changed the words to  _ she’ll cut your balls off with a knife, oh yes she will.  _

“Do you want to get some air?” Blue asked Chibs thoughtfully. Chibs shrugged, dragged on the joint and nodded. 

“Sure.” He said. Blue clambered clumsily to her feet and headed to the ceiling-to-floor sliding door that formed part of Queenie’s window. 

“We won’t be long, Bobster.” Chibs said, handing Bobby the joint. Bobby shrugged and put the guitar down, stretched, and slumped in the chair as he finished it off. It really was good shit. 

The balcony was only small but it was enough for her to keep a small orange tree in a pot and a small iron chair against the wall. The balcony walls were made of glass and Blue leant against the metal along the top as she looked out over the parking lot. Chibs stood beside her and copied her pose. He blew out his cheeks. 

“Phwoo. Forgot how good this stuff is.” 

“You sound like an old man.” Blue teased, and put on a mock-old-man-Scottish-accent, “ _ Back in my day…” _

“Aye, shut your mouth you whippersnapper.” Chibs nudged her. “That accent was shit.” 

“What the hell is a whippersnapper?” She laughed and shook her head at him. “Is that Scottish for kid?”

“You’re cheeky, you know that?”

“You sound like such a dad.” Blue sniggered.

“That’s probably because I’m old.” 

“You ain’t that old.” Blue shook her head at him delicately, looking at him carefully. 

He pulled at the wrinkles under his eye. “Yah. I am.” 

“Na-ah.” Blue turned her body to face him and he matched her stance, his body leant into hers. For the first time she found herself wondering just how good he would feel on top of her. Her electric blue eyes met his dark ones. “I’d do you, 100%.” 

“You’d do me?” Chibs chuckled. “Now who sounds like their generation.”

Blue wasn’t smiling all of a sudden. It could be the alcohol, or it could be her lowered inhibitions, but she found herself unable to fight the urge to kiss him. 

“Yeah. I’d do you.” She put on the mock Scottish accent again, “Capital DILF.”

“DILF?”

“Do I really have to explain that to you?” Blue frowned, her voice low. Chibs shook his head. 

“Why don’t you just show me.” 

“Why don’t I.” Blue said. It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge. Chibs raised an eyebrow and glanced into the living room. Bobby was snoozing in the armchair and Tig and Queenie were nowhere to be seen. He looked back at Blue, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. 

“Aye.” Chibs said. “Go on then.” 

Blue didn’t need asking twice. She stepped up to him, her body pressing into his in her short dress. She felt his beads dig into her chest as she snaked her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his tenderly. He, for a moment, kissed her back just as softly, but then his arms were around her waist and he was pushing her up against the outside wall of the flat. Her hands ran through his hair and his tongue was against hers. It was hotter than she had imagined, he was experienced as his hands took control of her body. She cocked her leg against his, hooking it around his thigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Bad Reputation - Joan Jett


	17. Season 1, Episode 6: The Abyss (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Blue continue to party with the Sons of Anarchy and Queenie lets Tig in in a way she had vowed not to. 
> 
> (Warning: V. smutty chapter)

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Queenie was standing by the sink as Tig came in. The tap was running and she was pulling at her nose, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look. Without her heels she was quite dinky compared to Tig’s 6-foot frame. He tried not to look at her curvaceous ass as he stepped into the bathroom. The room wasn’t large, but it wasn’t a box bathroom either. The shower and bathtub combo were significant in size and there was plenty of space between the toilet and the Olympic-podiumesque staggered counter that made up her sink. Like the rest of her place it was delicately designed in grey, black and silver. The girliest thing about the room was the make-up box standing on the counter by the window and even then it was all black and grey powders and pens. There was nothing girly about Queenie. 

“My nose is huge.” Queenie said thoughtfully. 

“Join the club.” Tig said, stepping up beside her. “You piss?”

“I achieved successful pissage.” She replied, turning away from her reflection to lean against the sink. “What are you doing in here?” 

“Figured you might need help.” Tig shrugged. 

“I’m a big girl.” Queenie said. “I can handle myself.”

“Clearly.” Tig replied, stepping up to her and leaning past her to turn off the still running tap. She looked up at him, her eyes bright. 

“I know why you’re really here.” Queenie said, running her hand over his chest suggestively,“And it’s nothing to do with whether I needed help peeing.” 

Tig’s eyebrow twitched as he looked down at her, his nose close to hers. “And why is that?” 

In answer, she took hold of his hand and slid it up her own thigh, her heavy breathing matching his. 

“How out of it are you?” Tig asked softly.

“Not so much that I don’t want to do this.” She replied, leaning in her lips so they were almost touching his. “Not so much that I don’t remember what you were like.” He smiled. 

“You gonna charge me?” He asked. 

“Depends how bad you are.” She replied.

“Oh I can be very bad.” Tig growled as he grabbed her ass and kissed her hungrily, using his pelvis to push her against the countertop. 

Outside on the balcony Chibs and Blue were still getting familiar. His body was pressed against hers and she ran her hands over his chest. However, as he swept his hand over Blue’s breast and down to her hip he suddenly pulled away. He ran his hands through his tangled hair and shook his head. 

“What are we doing?” He asked, then caught himself. “What am  _ I  _ doing? I’m  _ actually  _ old enough to be your dad. Forget that DILF shit. It’s not cool. I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“Filip, you don’t think Tig is doing Queenie in the bathroom right this second?”

“Aye, that’s Tig. He’ll do fucking dead bodies.”

Blue paused in her protest to frown. “Really?”

“Not the point, sweetheart.” Chibs said. “We’re high, you’re also drunk. You have to admit that you’d regret it if we did anything.” 

Blue actually had to agree. He was a damn good kisser but she looked to him like a father-figure. Queenie may be happy working out her daddy-issues with Tig but Blue was not going to do the same with Chibs. 

“It’s not me, though, right?”

Chibs smiled and shook his head. “It’s not you. You’re a very good kisser.” He put a hand on her cheek, “I do like you, kid. But it’s not going to happen.” 

“Okay.” Blue shrugged. 

“And don’t call me Filip. It’s weird.” Chibs tapped her cheek. 

“Aye, alright then.” She said. “Shall we go back inside?”

“Aye.” Chibs grinned at her. 

In the bathroom Tig unbuttoned Queenie’s Mets jersey, her scarlet lace bra shining startlingly bright in the dark decor of the room. Her hands made quick work of his buttons, sliding them open easily. She had hooked her legs around his thighs as she perched on the edge of the sink and was using her foot to tease the inside of his thigh. Her hand ran through his hair as she commanded his kiss, taking charge. Queenie felt good against his body. She was small but mighty. She had been too skinny ten years ago, too unsure of where to put her hands. Things had changed since then as demonstrated by the hand that slid down his bare chest and into the belt at his waist, her fingers sliding around his cock, causing it to pay attention. Tig was forced to pause in his kissing and she met his eye, her own shining devilishly. Her command was clear. He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. She smirked and rewarded him with a few pumps of his shaft. His breathing faltered as she ran her tongue over her lips. Slowly, frustratingly, she released him. He wanted to grab her and do her hard against the mirror but something about her authoritative eyes stayed his hand and cock. 

“How do you want me?” She asked in a hushed tone, her lips still parted. Every muscle in his body tensed. 

“You tell me baby.” He responded. He was throbbing hard, just wanting to be inside her. He ran a hand over her chest, pulling at the lace cup of her bra. She smirked but didn’t stop him. Instead she pressed into him again, her chest hard against his chest, her lips hard against his lips. Her hand found his cock again but she didn’t pump this time. She was holding it, using it to move him like her personal puppet. She used the force of the embrace to push him back, sliding off the sink and manipulating him into backing away, turning him so that he sat on the lowest countertop, his shirt hanging open and his feet firmly on the ground. When he was where she wanted him, transfixed entirely on her control, she turned her back to him and let her jersey fall from her arms to the floor. She swept her hair over her shoulder to her front and gave him a backwards glance, another command. It was fairly dark in the bathroom but he ran his hands over the Siren on her back and found the hook of her bra, expertly unclicking it with two fingers and letting her bra snap open. She inflated her chest as she ran her hands over her shoulders, sliding one strap sensually down her arm. As the strap reached her wrist Tig could stand it no longer. Disobeying her silent command he got to his feet, hooking his arm firmly around her front and wrenching the bra from her breasts and kissing her neck firmly as he did. For a moment she gave into it, allowing his other hand to slide into the front of her panties, but the moment his finger found her clitoris she slapped his arm and he withdrew. He sat back down, stunned by this control she had over him, and watched incredulously as she, still with her back to him, began to work her panties slowly down her legs. As she bent over to slide them from her ankle Tig ran his hands over her hips and ass. She didn’t slap his hands away, allowing him to pull her backwards onto his knee. She turned her head over her shoulder to kiss him, using her own hands to guide his to her nipple and clitoris. As he began to simultaneously stimulate her she let out small, deliberate, manipulative mews designed to get him harder. Even drunk and high,  _ especially  _ drunk and high, she was a master of her own body and the body of others. He was hard against her, wanting to slip inside her warm pussy, but she did not yet allow him access. Only when he kissed her neck and she ran her arms through her long hair and above her head, stretching every beautiful tattoo on her skin, and inclined her hips so that she had clear access did she allow him in. He responded without argument or question, holding her firmly on his knee as he thrust inside her, his long arms easily covering her body mass and holding her tight like a constrictor with prey. She used the strong muscles of her legs to pump him, fast, circling her hips as she did so. For a while she set the pace, taking the reins as she bounced up and down on his thick cock, the master of her craft. It was rapid, hungry, primal. He bucked with each clench of her perfect ass and she uncontrollably threw her head back. He wound one hand around her hair and pushed her torso forward, simultaneously holding her firm as he took over. She allowed him to set the speed now, his strong fingers pulling her nipple as he did. Her mewing turned to yelps and then screams of pleasure as he thrust deeper with each movement. 

“Yeah, baby.” He muttered as she responded. He ran his hand over the front of her thigh and then up it to her pussy, finding her with his finger, circling her pleasure button whilst pounding her hard. She gasped and her hands found her own breasts, pleasuring them whilst he covered the rest of her. She climaxed long and wet but he wasn’t done. She was forced to grip his legs as he suddenly slowed the pace right down. Her body glistened with sweat as she ran a hand through her own hair, smiling uncontrollably with each thrust. She felt his body tense beneath her as he came inside her. She giggled as she fought for breath and his hands slid from her body, defeated. She reached behind her and patted his bare chest, unscrewing herself from him and pulling her panties back on. As she slipped her arms back into her jersey she turned to face him, her perky breasts still erect. He was leant against the wall panting. 

“You alright there, old man?” She asked with a grin. Tig nodded. 

“You’ve been busy.” He said, clumsily buttoning up his shirt. “You got better.”

“So have you.” She smirked. 

“How are you feeling?” He gestured for her to come closer. 

“Peckish.” Queenie shrugged as she allowed him to do her buttons back up for her. 

“Same.” Tig nodded, his eyes sparkling. “How’s about them brownies?”

“I think we’ve both had enough.” Queenie ran a hand over his cheek and chin. “Popcorn?”

Tig nodded. “Yeah.” He lightly tapped her ass. She didn’t slap his hand away. “Sounds good.”

****

Queenie sat up in bed, the rest of her open-plan studio apartment quiet, the only sound the distant snoring sound of Bobby, Chibs and Blue in the living room below, with her eyes closed. She was silently saying her goodnight prayer, the one that preceded her sleep. As she was ending it, however, she heard the creak of the top rung of her ladder and opened her eyes to Tig looking at her. 

“What are you doin’?” She whispered. 

He crawled towards her, glancing over his shoulder before smiling back at her. “I thought you might be lonely.” He said. 

“No, I’m good.” She knew the look in his eyes. Her stomach churned at the memory of their rendezvous in the bathroom. He really was good. She anxiously bit her thumbnail. His face was lit by the moonlight of the skylight. He put his hands on the end of the bed and, when she didn’t stop him, pulled himself up onto it. She let him crawl up the bed towards her, pulling the comforter away from her bare legs down as he did. 

“Tell me to go.” He challenged. He was inches from her face now. She was still high, still drunk, and she still wanted him inside her. His hand ran up the inside of her leg and pulled aside her panties, his eyes not once moving from hers. Her only reaction to his finger sliding inside her was a slight gasp and the parting of her lips. “Tell me you don’t want it.” He challenged again. Queenie swallowed and closed her eyes as he began to stroke the inside of her wet, aching pussy. Her legs instinctively opened as she forced her eyes to open. 

“You’re a bad boy, Tigger.” She whispered. 

“The worst.” Tig promised. With his fingers still inside her he pulled her legs, causing her to flop back on the bed with a quiet thump. She ran her hands through his hair as he pushed his fingers deep into her, his shoulder forcing her knee to bend so he could reach further. She gripped his shoulders tightly as he held her eye-contact as he worked her as easily as if tuning his bike. 

“This is the last time.” She promised emptily, her arm stretching out on the bed and gripping the comforter. The truth was she didn’t know if she could let that happen.

“I’ve heard that before.” Tig breathed directly into her ear as he bit it softly. She went to moan but he put his finger against her lips. “Shh.” He whispered. “We don’t want to wake the others.” 

Queenie swallowed hard as he deliberately found a rhythm that would drive her wild. She bit his finger gently to keep from crying out. The bite turned to a suck as her eyes flew open again, her instincts triggered. He had not been expecting her to take control but that smile spread across her lips again. She pressed herself against his fingers inside her, her hand on the back of his head. With intense eye contact she came hard and long. She kissed him to stop herself crying out, shaking in silence. 

“Is that all you got?” She challenged as she recovered herself. Tig did not like how evenly matched they were. She cocked her eyebrow and he pulled his fingers out of her. Keeping his eye-contact as best she could she slid out of her panties and he unbuckled his belt in anticipation. As he pulled down his pants enough to release his erect cock she rolled playfully onto her front and pushed herself up onto all fours, her ass in the air. She was looking at him over her shoulder toyfully, her eyes big and her bottom lip between her teeth. He smirked at her and ran his hand over her ass, running his nails lightly up her thigh. She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly enjoying the feeling. 

“Don’t scream.” Tig warned. She opened her eyes again, challenging him, and he spanked her as hard as he could without making a loud noise. Her lips flew open with the resulting gasps and he thrust himself into her waiting pussy. Her body bucked but she didn’t scream, as promised. He wrapped his commanding hands around her hips to pull her further onto him, working her hard and fast as she gave in to him, burying her face in the pillow to keep her promise. As he was close to climaxing, and she was close to climaxing again, she suddenly pushed up her head and then the rest of her body. He pulled her into place and, just like the bathroom, held her close to him as he pounded her. She was biting her lip to keep from crying out, drawing blood. His hand found her mouth and he covered it for her. Her breasts bounced freely on her chest as he fucked her fast and hard. With one of her hands she reached down to her pussy and circled her own clitoris, her favourite sensation, and with the other she reached between them to cup his balls, fondling them. It was enough to tip him over the edge. He bit her shoulder to stop himself screaming as she pressed her mouth against his fingers. Panting, exhausted, he slipped out of her and collapsed on the bed at a diagonal angle. He just about managed to do his jeans back up, whispering, “You win,” before falling asleep. 

Queenie shook her head at him, retrieved and replaced her panties, and pulled the comforter up and over herself. Her pussy was still tingling as she shivered with aftershock, mentally reminding herself to take her morning after as soon as she woke up. She took a moment to contemplate her life choices as she thought about her feelings. She didn’t love Tig. She didn’t even particularly like him a lot of the time. But he was a good fuck, and sometimes when a person is high as a kite and fucked off their tits a good fuck is all they need. Nevertheless, as Queenie’s own body gave in and sent her to sleep, her last thought was of Juice and what he would be like in bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: S.E.X by Nickelback.


	18. Season 1, Chapter 6: The Abyss (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie regrets her actions of the night before but that doesn't stop her sleeping with Tig again. She is falling into the abyss in fear of everything going on in her life. 
> 
> (Warning. V. Smutty chapter)

They had spent the day in the clubhouse nursing hangovers and preparing weapons and plotting. Queenie had avoided Tig's eye contact all day and, by default and out of guilt, Juice's. Being with Tig had made her realise that she did possess genuine feelings for the self proclaimed 'nice guy'.   
  
Queenie sat alone on the couch in the bar as one-by-one the Sons passed out and the Sirens went home. Blue had given in a good hour ago, still recovering from the night before, and Queenie was the last Siren standing. Her head was still throbbing from last night. Tomorrow was the day the Sons would be returning to Charming to set wheels in motion. She should be sleeping right now but she couldn’t. She pulled off her heeled boots and let her feet breathe in the early morning air. Her eyes fell on Juice, sleeping a little way away, and she felt her stomach flip. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, her dress confining about her chest. She felt the couch lower beside her and opened her eyes to see Tig sitting beside her, reclined on the couch with his arm over the back and his legs crossed. 

“Can I help you?” Queenie asked. 

“Don’t be like that.” Tig said. “Not after yesterday.”

“We’re not talking about yesterday, remember.” Queenie said huffily, looking away from him. 

“You okay?” Tig asked. Queenie shrugged with a false smile. Tig frowned. 

“I’ve known you longer than these guys.” He leaned closer. “I know you  _ better _ .” 

“Hardly.” Queenie scoffed.

“Regardless of the situation, I can tell when something is eating you. What’s up.”

“I’m not about to sit here and talk about feelings with you, Tigger, alright.” She folded her arms and arms, closing herself off. “We’ve fucked like three times. That doesn’t make us in any way together, alright?”

“Alright.” Tig said with a smile, holding his hands up. “I can’t handle your mood swings anyway.” 

There was a long pause in which Tig shifted his arm to rest his hand on his own knee. Queenie looked at how close his hand was to her thigh. She remembered how those hands had felt on her skin. She looked him up and down as he stared into space, clearly not wanting to piss her off by looking at her but still wanting to be close. They were the only two still awake, after all. She took a deep breath and made a decision, getting to her feet and holding her hand out to him. 

“Where are we going?” Tig asked with a frown. 

“I’m bored.” She said, her eyes sparkling. Tig looked apprehensive. “Oh, c’mon. You know you enjoyed it.” 

Tig didn’t need telling twice. He wasn’t sure she even remembered any of it. He took her hand and let her lead him through the sleeping Sirens and Sons, through the throne room, and into the clubhouse at the back. No sooner had the door shut behind them had she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him roughly on the lips. His hands slid around her waist naturally as he held her close to him. Each kiss caused a chain reaction in his body. She pulled him backwards into the room as she stumbled into a pool table. There was a frantic scrabble as they fought to clear the balls out of the way, still kissing with her arm around his neck, her hand in his hair. She reclined on the now clear pool table as he kissed down her neck and over her heaving breasts trapped in her tight dress. He scrabble with the lacings, wanting to free them from their prison, as she in turn scrabbled at his belt. 

“Just pull it.” She ordered as he tentatively began to untie them. 

“What? No.” Tig argued briefly. Her kisses were deep and desperate. 

“Just rip it.” She ordered again as she got his jeans unzipped and his shirt untucked. She began to help him in unlacing her dress, pulling so quickly at the ties that they soon loosened, revealing her almost entirely naked body beneath. Tig helped her pull at them until the dress simply fell away from her and he could take in her body. With the addition of tattoos her skin was as olive and smooth as he remembered it. From her perch on the pool table in simply her panties she pulled at his waistband, sliding her hand down into them. He gasped as she grasped his member with her warm fingers, her eyes meeting his. 

“Get it off.” She ordered as she began to manipulate his dick slowly. He let out an uncontrollable moan as she ran her teeth over her bottom lip. “I want you.” Her instruction was clear and Tig had never stripped so fast. 

“You can have me any which way, baby.” He growled back at her as he undressed, ripping his own shirt from his body. He stood before her now completely naked except for her hand on his cock. She smiled at him and with a teasing stroke up his shaft, released him from her grip. He gasped as she did so, never wanting anything more than her back on him. 

“Then take me.” She ordered in a whisper, kissing him light enough on the lips that he followed her movement, wanting more. She slid down from the pool table seductively, slowly, as he waited with anticipation. Knowing he was watching every inch of her as she moved, she made slow and deliberate movements as she leant backwards on the pool table, pushing her breasts out, and spread her legs just a little. When she was ready she gave him a look, giving him permission to touch her waiting body. Internally she was screaming out, but on the outside she remained calm and collected. He did as he was silently bid, his big, clumsy hands running over her breasts, pinching her erect nipples and sliding down to her hips. She kept her eyes on him as he worked, closely observing him observe her body. He found the waistband of her panties and beginning to pull them down, but before they had even cleared her hip-bone she slapped his hand. He frowned, but one look at her face told him what she wanted. He gave a small smile in response and kissed her neck, so lightly that she could barely feel it. He moved down the front of her body, his kisses moving over her waiting breast, nipple, navel and hip. His teeth found the waistline of her panties now and he did as she wanted, pulling them down her legs whilst his hands ran over her ass and thighs. As he slipped them over her pointed toes she lifted her foot to free herself and he gripped her ankle. This was not in the instruction but she didn’t argue as he lightly kissed up her leg and thigh, his kisses getting dangerously close to her pussy but at no point did he touch it with his mouth. She moaned uncontrollably, growing annoyed that he was playing her at her own game. His hand was still on her leg as he kissed over her pussy and along her hip-bone. She kicked him lightly away in punishment and he growled. Using her thumb, she caught his growl and pulled his bottom lip down in warning. 

“Let me take you.” He grunted. Queenie blinked seductively. She was so wet after his rogue-moves. She wanted him inside her. She could feel his enormous member pressing against her leg. Using a hand on his chest she pushed him away and turned her back to him seductively, brushing her long hair over her shoulder so the end tickled her erect nipple. Slowly, knowing he was watching, she leant forward over the pool table and spread her legs just a little. Looking back over her shoulder she gave him a look. Knowing her meaning, he slid his hands around the front of her. His finger found her clitoris whilst the other hand slipped between her breasts and pinched her nipple, holding her in place. She gasped as he began to circle her clit and roll her nipple. She let out a moan as he slid slowly inside her. The feel of the cool wood on her hips spurred her on as he pushed deep inside her, holding her rigid like a puppet as he bucked his hips. He pushed back inside, quicker this time, deeper, and she moved with him. He took her roughly, deeply, hard, as she gasped with each pound. As his speed quickened he used his strong grip to pull her into a standing position. She gripped his arms to steady herself as she moved with him, putting herself completely at his mercy. He bit her neck softly and she let out a moan, his finger on her clitoris sliding back and forth in motion with his heaving cock inside her. Her breasts bounced in time as he pinched her nipple and pulled it. She slid her hands up his arms and locked them behind her head, around his neck. He gripped her arm, rendering her breasts uncovered. They bounced freely on her chest as he controlled her, instincts taking over. She was his bitch and he was her stud. He knew she was close and he pushed her back onto the pool table so he could get deeper. His hands locked on both of her upper legs at the hip so he could pull her onto him like a sheathe. She came, fast and wet, but still he didn’t stop. She yelped with each thrust as he pulled her hair and scratched his nails down her back, causing her to cum again. His pace slowed, drawing it out, and then he sped up again as he came inside her. With a few more soft thrusts to wind down she came for a third time, her entire body shuddering. 

She lay weakly atop the pool table as he pulled out of her. She closed her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. She could hear him gathering his clothes behind her, and with a light kiss to her shoulder blade he left the room, leaving her confused and alone. She shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly to avoid the tears falling. 

She felt like she was losing it. It was unwravelling around her. 

She was barely treading water as she was falling into the abyss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the chapter: Turbulence - Bowling for Soup


	19. Season 1, Episode 7: The Call (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens and Sons finally have their showdown against their greatest enemies, Veneno.

Today was the day that everything would change. 

And yet, by 10.30, there was still no sign of Queenie. Blue and the Sirens took up the clubhouse as they loaded and tested the firearms that they had at their disposal, waiting for them to be added to by the Sons when they arrived shortly. Blue glanced at the clock and frowned. It wasn’t like her to be late, and the Sons said they would be here by 10.30. Right on cue, there was the sound of engines outside and male voices.

“Showtime.” Phoenix said, loading a magazine and sliding her handguns into her side harness. She was determined to take down her attackers regardless of her level of recovery. Blue had no choice but to let her. 

“Where’s Queen?” Black Widow asked as Blue started walking towards the door. 

“No idea.” Blue replied. She was starting to feel worried. Had Veneno caught wind of what was about to go down and done something about it? Blue pulled out her cell and typed a quick message to Queenie: Where you at?: before continuing to the door, just as Jax and Clay walked through it. 

“Mornin’.” Jax said breezily. The President and VP were followed by Tig, Bobby, Chibs, Opie, Juice and Half-Sack, the latter two of which carried an enormous black duffel bag between them. They dumped the bag in front of Phoenix and Blue. Phoenix’ eyes lit up like Christmas morning as she knelt at the bag. 

“Is this… what I think it is?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered.” Clay said. “As promised.” 

“Clay,” Phoenix had opened the bag and was holding one of the guns like a newborn baby, “If I were straight I think I might love you.” 

“High praise indeed, brother.” Tig punched Clay lightly in the upper arm. 

Blue and Jax were looking at each other. Jax offered her a smile. 

“You ready for today?” He asked softly. 

“As we’ll ever be.” Blue replied, forcing her feelings down.

“Where is the prodigal daughter?” Clay asked, folding his arms. 

Bonnie opened her mouth to say, “She’s late,” but Blue cut her off. 

“Just sharpening her knives.” Blue said without breaking Clay’s eye-contact, locked in a power play. 

“Ah.” Blue wasn’t sure if Clay bought it or not, but he shrugged and didn’t question it. 

“We all clear on the plan?” Blue asked.

“Unless it’s changed since we were last here?” Clay asked. 

“No, it hasn’t.” Blue said. 

“Do you want to run it by us again, turquoise, for those of us of later years and lacking memories?” Chibs said. Blue narrowed her eyes at the tease but nodded. 

“We’ve sent a message to Fuego directly telling him we want to meet to settle our scores once and for all. He told us to ride out to a section of desert outside Tranquility noon today and meet him and his men there. No guns.”

Tig scoffed. “Does he think we were born yesterday?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Phoenix agreed. She was still inspecting the firearms the Sons had brought as a gift.

“So you and the ladies are going to meet him and his crew at the rendez-vous point. We’ll ride behind you and spread out as you’re distracting him. We take out anyone that gets in our way with the silencers. When shit hits the fan, as it’s bound to do with Fuego, and he double-crosses you we’ll be there to help you take them out.” Clay finished for her. Blue nodded. 

“What makes you think Fuego will bring his whole crew?” Bobby asked tentatively. 

“Queenie told him she would be there.” 

“What’s the beef with Fuego and Queenie anyway?” Juice asked from the back of the group. 

“You know Fuego’s only got nine fingers?” Foxy said with a smirk. 

“Yeah....” Opie joined in. 

“Queenie’s got the other in a box. Cut it off with a throwing star after he killed Lashes.” Ginger explained. 

“She keeps it mummified as a souvenir.” Angel chimed in. 

Some of the Sons had lips curled in disgust. 

“Cool.” Juice said breathlessly before he could stop himself. 

“Your Pres is crazy, man.” Tig said admiringly. 

“You bet your ass.” Queenie’s voice came from the door behind the group. They all turned to see her enter, a heavy leather satchel hanging from her shoulder. She was wearing tight black jeans that showed off every curve. She dumped the satchel on the floor and Blue hoped it would confirm her white lie as to Queenie’s whereabouts. As Phoenix opened it, revealing at least a dozen bowie knives, Blue let out a sigh of relief. Did she know her friend, or did she know her friend. 

“Sorry I’m late boys, got carried away.” Queenie said breezily. “We ready to go kill some wetbacks?” She turned to the group and surveyed them all. For a moment she caught Juice’s eye and then looked away quickly. She was still not over her moments of weakness with Tig and confused about her feelings for Juice.

“Always.” Jax said. His answer was met with cries of agreement. 

“You been over the plan?” Queenie asked Blue. Blue nodded. “Aces.” Queenie bent to pick out a gun from the bag and gave everyone the briefest of glimpses to the rosary she had tattooed on her back. Many of the Sons raised eyebrows. None of them would have taken her for religious. Not even the Sirens knew that Queenie had spent her morning in church praying for a successful day. “Let’s roll.” She said, shouldering a shotgun and strapping a pistol into her belt. She moved back through the Sons and the Sirens, sliding on her sunglasses as she did. With exchanged glances, they all followed her. 

Hercules Fuego was an ugly fucker. It had not been improved by his missing finger and the deep scar across his face caused by Lashes before Fuego snapped her neck. As a result, his right eye was almost permanently closed and he was forced into a permanent snarl. As he stepped out of his enormously overdressed desert ranger, accompanied by his leather jacketted wetback cronies, he licked his filthy mouth and stuck a fat cigar between his lips. His thinning hair was swept back over his forehead in a hideous combover, his hair-chest protruding from his ‘made-in-the-70s’ suit. There were no witnesses to this meeting aside from the carrion crows perched in a burnt out tree not far away. Queenie leant against her bike nonchalantly, arms folded and leg cocked. Around her, her Sirens stood about their bikes in a half-circle formation. 

“Guns.” One of Fuego’s thugs grunted. Queenie sucked her teeth before nodding to her club. One by one they removed the pistols from their persons and slid them across the desert sand in front of them until they stopped a good few feet away. 

“You too.” Queenie ordered. Fuego raised a hairy eyebrow but nodded to his men to lay down their guns. They followed his command reluctantly. Queenie beamed and pushed herself forwards, arms held up. “Nice of you to answer my call, Fuego.”

“Isn’t that what all men do when they hear the siren song?” Fuego replied coldly. 

“Correct.” Queenie nodded. 

“What do you want,  _ Queenie _ ?” Fuego said her name sarcastically in a high pitched tone. Queenie’s pierced eyebrow twitched and Blue looked at her quickly. She knew what was coming and silently prayed the President would keep her cool. Thankfully she seemed to have thought the same thing. 

“Well,  _ Fuego, _ ” Queenie replied in a similar mocking tone of voice, “I want to know why you’ve been dealing shit in my town and thinking you could get away with it. I want to know why you thought you could poison me and I wouldn’t want another finger as retribution. I want to know why your fuckers attacked my Sgt at Arms and painted ‘negro’ in her blood. Did you think we wouldn’t notice your little spiders?” 

Fuego smirked. It amused him to be told off by a little girl. “A snake does not concern himself with the opinions of fish.” His eyes scanned Queenie up and down. “Even one as sexy as you.” He blew her a kiss.

Blue shut her eyes exasperatedly. That was Queenie’s button and he had just pushed it.

“The fuck does that even mean. I’m pretty sure you got that quote entirely wrong, you piece of shit.” Queenie was growing in anger now. She looked around at the four or five stolen army trucks full of men. There had to be forty at least. “This all your guys?” She asked in a tone that indicated she wasn’t scared. Blue smirked. She knew what Queenie was asking for. 

“Apart from the two or three I got looking out.” Fuego nodded. “All my forces. Like I promised. Fair deal. I am a businessman after all.” His eyes shone maliciously. “Good.” Queenie swept the men again and spoke a little louder, “Forty odd?” 

Metres away, hidden in the bush or behind rocks encircled around the rendez-vous Clay exchanged looks with the men dotted around him. He held up four fingers to Chibs and Jax in their corresponding hiding places. They nodded and did the same. Slowly but surely the message was passed around.

“We’re not a large business.” Fuego shrugged, “But we do.” 

Queenie nodded as though she understood. “In that case, seeing as you are honouring our correspondence, why don’t you take your poison and deal it elsewhere. Out of King county. Out of Corona. Out of America, I don’t fucking care. You will not deal it in my home again.” 

“Your home?” Fuego shared a vile laugh with his henchmen. “Sweetie, you’re every bit as alien as I am.” 

“Do you want my freakin’ family tree?” Queenie asked. “Are you even listening to me? Take. Your shit. Elsewhere.” Queenie turned and walked back to her bike and made as though to leave. 

“Make me, Princess.” Fuego chuckled. Blue opened her eyes to see a smirk spread across Queenie’s face. From her position at the side of her President, Blue could see precisely why she was smiling and what her fingers had just done inside her pannier bag.

“Okay.” Queenie said with a grin directed at the gang boss. Fuego frowned. He clearly had not expected such a confident answer from her. Before he could come out with a witty retort to counter her answer, however, she had swung the shotgun out from her pannier bag and fired it in the direction of Fuego. The lack of time to aim meant that even a sharpshooter like Queenie missed him by inches. By the time he and his men had realised what had happened the Sirens had dived for their pistols or into their panniers for rifles and shotguns.

“That’s our cue!” Clay shouted, rolling out from his hiding place and joining the fray. The Sons followed suit. Before Veneno thugs could reach their guns the Sirens and Sons together had already wiped out at least ten. Two dived to get Fuego into his car as Queenie shot the second barrel. The shells ploughed into the open car door and the back of one of the henchmen.

“Get out and face me you coward!” Queenie screamed as Fuego clambered into the backseat. 

“This was not our deal, ginzo!” Fuego shouted. Queenie broke into a run, picking up a dropped pistol as she did and beginning to shoot. She took out the second henchman but neglected to notice the sniper rifle aimed at her chest. Thankfully someone else had. Juice barrelled into Queenie and forced them both to roll behind a large boulder. 

“Get offa me!” Queenie exclaimed, hitting out at him. 

“Do you want to get yourself killed?” Juice asked, but he did as she asked. The sounds of gunshots filled the air in harmony with the cries of the wounded. Queenie rolled onto her knees. 

“I gotta kill the bastard.” She said by way of explanation. Juice grabbed hold of her hand. 

“Not if it gets you killed.” 

Queenie looked down at his hand holding hers and at his face incredulously.

“You don’t understand, Juice, I ain’t got nothing to stop me. I ain’t got nothing to live for.”

“You have everything to live for.” Juice corrected her. 

“Are you kiddin’? I’m damaged goods. My time is way over. Let me go down swingin’.” Queenie pulled her hand out of his grip and headed back towards the car that Fuego was desperately trying to climb through to reach the wheel. Juice watched as Queenie ducked and dodged bullets flying everywhere. She dished out three headshots and used another to burst a tyre on the car so Fuego could not escape. Helplessly Juice decided the best thing he could do was watch her back and keep her alive. He reluctantly joined the fray again as Queenie wrenched open the shotgun door and grabbed hold of Fuego. 

Blue had single-handedly taken down at least a quarter of their opposition, but it had taken most of her ammo. She was hastily trying to reload when she felt a bullet whistle past her ear. Feeling blood trickle down her neck Blue shouted a curse and turned to face her attacker, her magazine slotted in place. No less than five burly Mexicans - including the one she recognised from the chase to the border weeks ago - were closing in on her. She cocked her gun and fired five of her eight shots, dropping three of them and injuring another. She cried out as she did, unaware of anyone else or anything. 

“Blue!” She heard a Scottish shout from behind her and felt Chibs press his back against hers showdown style. “Jesus woman do you ever look around you?”

“I’ve got this, Chibs.” Blue spat, “Back off!” 

“No fear.” Chibs argued, taking out two fuckers, “I know you’re some high and mighty independent lass but everyone needs help sometimes.” Chibs shot another but his gun simply clicked. “Fuck!” He shouted. Blue span around and shot Chibs’ attacker square in the forehead. “I’m out!” Chibs shouted. 

“Me too!” Blue shouted back over the noise. She rolled over a boulder and felt Chibs slide down beside her. He pulled shot from his vest and together they reloaded. 

“Maybe let someone have your back once in a while, ay?” Chibs scolded. “You’ll live longer.” 

“Not the time, Filip.” Blue replied, her pistol good to go once more. 

“This was not the deal!” Fuego protested as Queenie dragged him out and onto the floor. He was a big son of a bitch and it was proving difficult. He fought as best he could but eventually she dragged him out and onto the floor, standing over him with her pistol held to his forehead. 

“What did you say earlier?” Queenie asked through gritted teeth. “A snake does not concern himself with fish? Are you concerned now?”

Fuego’s answer was a strangled cry as he slashed out with a knife. He sliced down Queenie’s arm, forcing her to drop her pistol, and his fist connected with the side of her face. He knocked her to the ground and rolled on top of her, his blade raised to stab her in the throat. Quick as a flash Queenie pulled her own blade from her boot and drove it into the side of his head. Fuego died instantly, his knife dropping from his hand as he collapsed next to her on the sand. Retrieving her pistol, anger forcing itself out of her mouth as she rolled onto her knees and emptied the remainder of her barrel into his forehead. Juice stood metres away helplessly, his gun still raised as he watched. 

“Jesus, Queenie.” He breathed. 

Queenie ignored him. 

“That’s for my sisters, you sadistic fuck.” Queenie spat on Fuego’s bloodied corpse and picked herself up off the ground and threw down the pistol. The last few shots rang out as the last of Fuego’s men joined their leader. Queenie met Juice’s eyes and then looked away. The expression on her bloodstained face was almost one of regret. “It’s done.” She said quietly, turning away from Juice and walking back in the direction of her bike. Juice watched as she was swarmed by her Sirens and some of the Sons, each congratulating each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of chapter: I Put a Spell on You - Marilyn Manson


	20. Season 1, Episode 7: The Call (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sirens and Sons celebrate their victory at their headquarters. Blue reveals secrets of her past and gets closer to Jax... and they are visited by an unwelcome guest who forces Blue to show her true colours.

The gathering at Cherry Pie was never going to be a quiet one. Surely it was a bad business decision to shut the entire establishment for one Saturday night but for this once Queenie felt it would be worthwhile. The club was already running with high tensions after the events of the afternoon. Some members were still licking their wounds. Ginger had her work cut out for her patching up cuts and pulling out slugs, but she did so in her usual upbeat manner. Now both clubs had descended on the bar and were ready to celebrate being alive. Queenie told Precious and Jasmine to keep the drinks stocked with whatever the Sons wanted as a thank you for their help in the endeavour. Without them it would not have gone smoothly in the slightest. They would still be fighting, and possibly losing, to Veneno. 

Queenie watched from the chapel doorway as they all settled in to a good night. She nursed her bandaged forearm and counted herself lucky that thay bullet had simply grazed her. She could get her ink updated once the wound had scarred over. Or maybe she would keep it as is, a record of their victory. She fingered the material of the bandage and crossed her leatherbound ankles over as she watched a game get underway with Juice as the croupier. For the first time in a long time she actually wanted to get to know a man, to put herself deliberately in his way so that he would be forced to speak with her. She crossed the room and drew a stool up to the game. 

“Room for one more?” She asked breezily. Her question was answered with a collective agreement and a clap on the shoulder from Tig. Juice caught her eye as he dealt her a hand and gave her a lopsided smile like he was genuinely happy to see her. Her heart did a backflip and she cursed it internally.

Across the room Blue was sitting at the bar gazing at the bottom of her drink, twirling the straw thoughtfully between her fingers. Her mind was filled with the events of the day. Panic once again rose in her chest and she gave herself an angry thump to the sternum to banish it from being. 

“Indigestion?” Came a Scottish lilt from behind her. Blue turned around to see Chibs pulling up a barstool at her side. “Mind if I join you?” He asked as he did just that. He gestured to Precious for a drink and one appeared almost instantly. Blue smiled at him professionally. 

“Thanks for having my back earlier.” She said as Chibs swigged his drink. 

“Is that what happened?” Chibs asked. “Is it not you who had mine?”

“Potato, potahto.” Blue shrugged and held her drink out to him. “To being alive.” 

“Aye.” Chibs replied, clinking his glass against hers. His face was stern, but soft and he kept his eyes fixed on her as he drank. He had a way of making her feel like he was reading her soul. “You got something to tell me?” He said calmly, replacing his glass on the bartop for Precious to refill. 

“No?” Blue asked not at all confidently. She crossed her tattooed legs and arms defensively, showing a lot of bare flesh in the process. Chibs didn’t notice. His stern eyes were fixed on her face. 

“Ah, alright.” He said with a thankful nod to Precious and his refilled glass. “So you didn’t go hell-for-leather with a handgun and nearly get yourself shot earlier? You don’t want to talk about how I had to physically pull you away?”

“No.” Blue replied in a monotone. 

“Right.” Chibs rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know you have nothing to prove here, right?” 

Blue met his eye in response. Rumbled. Chibs chuckled.

“So I thought.” Chibs said. “Is that Queenie’s doing?” Chibs nodded his head in Queenie’s direction. “She’s not subtle in the slightest with her hatred of the opposite sex.”

“She doesn’t hate men.” Blue said instantly. It was a defense that she had used often for her President. “She just doesn’t trust them. Shed rather use them before they use her.” 

“Do you?” Chibs was leaning on the bar now, his hand resting under his cheek as he looked at her as intent as a psychologist in an asylum. Blue half expected him to follow up with  _ so tell me where it all began?  _ Blue angrily stabbed her straw into an ice cube in response. She felt like a child again, and that was never a good place to go. Yet she could feel it engulfing her. Suddenly, she wanted to tell Chibs everything. 

“No.” She replied, her voice thick with the battle to fight her sudden urge to cry. 

“No?” Chibs said in a soft voice. He gestured with his head for Precious and Jasmine to clear off down the other end of the bar and then turned his attention to Blue. “Do you want to talk about that?”

Blue’s eyes searched Chib’s face desperately. She could feel them fill with tears and she blinked harshly to clear it. A single tear seeped out and down her face, smudging her eye make-up. She nodded helplessly. 

Chibs glanced at the rest of their companions. Queenie, Juice, Tig and Opie were too wrapped up in their poker game to notice. Black Widow and Jax were in church with Ginger and Bobby as she stitched up Bobby’s leg. The remaining Sirens were either watching the poker game, talking with their partners in-depth or making out with tail-chasers. Clay was sitting down the bar but he was chatting happily enough to Precious and Jasmine. Chibs concluded that it was as safe a space as it could be. He reached out to take Blue’s hand gently. 

“Okay.” He said. “Start at the beginning.” 

Blue opened her eyes but kept her gaze fixed firmly on the buckles of her boots. She didn’t brush off Chibs’ hand, nor did she fight his touch. 

“I guess the beginning was the day I turned four years old, back in North Carolina. He probably thought I was fair game then. He’d grown bored of my mom and I was the next best thing.” Blue spoke as quietly as she dared. She let out a small sob. Chibs, his face a mixture of anger and fear for where this story was heading, shifted slightly on the stool so that he could lean closer and she wouldn’t have to strain. 

“He who, sweetheart?” 

Blue swallowed hard as fresh tears spurted from her once more closed eyes. Never once had a man called her ‘sweetheart’ in such a genuine way.

“My dad.” Blue said quietly. 

“Jesus.” Chibs replied. 

“When I was a baby he would hit my mom and tell me they were play-fighting and just got a bit rough. When I turned four and he started doing it to me I knew that they were not play-fighting.”

“Did he just hit you or…?” Chibs tailed off.

“It was only ever physical abuse with me, like he was asserting his dominance. With mom it was everything. Physical, emotional, mental… sexual.” 

Blue let out a sob and Chibs squeezed her hand. “He never did more than hit me.”

“That’s bad enough. Since you were four?” 

“Until I was fifteen. For the seven years from my eight birthday it was every day.” 

“Didn’t you go to the cops?” 

“Would you? My mom tried. He said he would kill me and make her watch.” 

“What happened when you were fifteen?” 

“I left.” 

“Alone?”

Blue’s tone was full of regret. “Alone.” She said quietly. 

“Blue…” Chibs’ tone of voice was one of absolute care and tenderness. 

“I left my mom behind to fend for herself. How could I do that?” Blue began to full-bodiedly sob now, her hand over her eyes. Chibs glanced around to conclude everyone was all still busy with their own business and then pulled out his handkerchief. 

“You came here?” Chibs asked, pressing it softly into her hand. Blue nodded.

“Hitchhiked all the way from NC. Didn’t care if I got murdered ,kidnapped or even raped, I just wanted to get as far away as I could. I wanted to go to Canada but I was never given a passport. So I came to California. I headed for Los Angeles actually. I liked the sound of the city of angels. I hoped those angels could watch out for me. I lived on the streets for three months and then Lady found me. I guess she was a guardian angel in some ways. That was twelve years ago.” 

“She sounds it.” Chibs hesitated before brokering his next question. “Twelve years. Did you ever go back?”

Blue stopped sobbing and resumed her vacant stare aimed at the floor. She shook her head once. The tears replaced themself with anger at herself. Chibs did not question her anymore about it. 

It was at this point that Jax and Bobby walked out of church. Bobby had an arm around Jax’s shoulder as Jax helped him slide into the nearest booth on his damaged leg. It happened to be the same booth Queenie was beating Tig, Opie and Juice at poker. Jax laughed at something they said and shook Bobby’s shoulders. He looked up just as Blue looked over. Their eyes locked and both parties hastily looked away again. A moment passed as the poker game atmospherics spread across the bar, and then Jax and Blue locked coy eyes again. This time Jax offered her a tentative smile. She responded coyly. Jax made a motion to walk over, but was stopped by his cell ringing. Blue took the opportunity as he fumbled to answer it to look away and pretend she hadn’t been thinking everything that she had been thinking. Chibs watched this exchange and raised a knowing eyebrow at Blue. She was angrily mopping her eyes with his offered handkerchief, smudging black eye make-up all over it. The last thing she needed was Jax seeing her as a mess. 

“What about that?” Chibs asked with a nod towards Jax. He accepted back his handkerchief as she offered it. 

“What?” Blue asked, pulling her cigarette case from her kutte and offering Chibs one out of courtesy. He held up a hand to refuse and watched patiently as she lit her own, tucking the handkerchief away.

“That exchange with our VP.” Chibs nodded at Jax as he walked past them to take his call outside. 

“What exchange?” Blue’s go-to was defensive, especially after her revelation and her breakdown, and she played the part well. She could feel herself returning in strength from within. 

“C’mon.” Chibs said with a small smile. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

Blue blinked at the door through which Jax had just exited. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Blue replied, folding her limbs tighter and dragging on her cigarette. The tears had dried up and she was rapidly returning to her usual self. Push it down, push it away and pretend it didn’t happen. 

“You know I’ve got a daughter?” Chibs said. “And I know enough women to know the signs.” 

“Signs?” Blue was still playing dumb.

“What you’re feeling for Jax.” Chibs spoke quietly again. Blue bristled.

“I don’t feel anything for Jax.” She spat. 

Chibs simply chuckled again. “No, course not.” 

“Besides,” Blue took a ragged breath in, cursing her post-break-down state, “He’s got an old lady back in Charming.”

“Tara?” Chibs asked. “Pssh. I don’t think she’s really old lady material.” 

Blue’s breath caught. Was Chibs telling her what she thought he was? Was Jax less tied down than she had thought? Was there a chance?

Chibs was watching her intently. 

“She may not be old lady material, but they’re still together. I’m not gonna get in the way of that.” Blue spoke with difficulty, her chest tight again. 

“That’s noble of you.” Chibs said, his eyes sparkling maliciously. “But she  _ is  _ in Charming. Not here.” 

Blue frowned at him. “Chibs…” She started, but was interrupted by the door opening and Jax entering again. He looked far more concerned than he had before. Blue wanted to ask him why. 

Chibs sent him a head nod in acknowledgement and turned back to Blue. He didn’t need to speak. Blue knew what she had to do. She fluffed up her hair and rearranged her clothing in order to trigger the confidence boost she would need just as Jax headed over. He had his hands in his pockets and was acting casual as he sauntered up and positioned himself between them in a triangle. 

“Everything alright, brother?” Chibs asked. 

“Yeah, fine.” Jax said, sounding far from fine. He smiled at Blue. “You alright?” 

Chibs raised an eyebrow at Blue and started to get up. 

“Yeah. we’re grand Jacky. Blue and I were just celebrating alive.”

“Every-day, man.” Jax said. He clapped a hand on Chibs’ shoulder. “You off?”

“I’m going to see what’s going on in the Ortiz Casino.” Chibs nodded over at the poker game. 

“Don’t join in unless you want to lose to Queenie, man.” Jax warned. “She’s eating them alive over there. Ope is this close to losing his house.” He held up a finger and thumb barely a millimetre apart.

“Yeah, she’s good at gambling.” Blue said absent-mindedly. “Learnt it from her family.” Her stomach was churning, fighting wanting Jax to sit down or for him to leave as soon as he had come. Chibs did not seem to be giving the latter a choice. 

“It must be the Italian in her.” Chibs said.

“Or the mafia.” Jax added. 

Chibs shot a wink at Blue and gave Jax a reassuring clap on the chest as he walked away. Blue watched him go with a pained expression on her face as Jax took the vacant bar stool. 

“It alright if I join?” Jax asked. What was it with these Sons and their inability to wait for an answer? Blue nodded. 

“What’s your poison?” She asked. 

“Beer. Cold. Hold the roofies.” Jax replied with a grin. Blue nodded and gestured at Precious with two fingers. Precious nodded and set about removing bottle-caps. Jax smiled at Blue and she tried her best to return it and bury all thoughts of her conversation with Chibs. The only one who knew all that shit previously had been Queenie. Why the fuck had she felt the need to share it with Chibs? Apparently near-death experiences caused an unspeakable, and unbreakable, bond. Blue gratefully took a swig from the beer Precious put in front of her. Jax was looking at her in his way, trying to suss her out. 

“Life as a VP, huh?” He said, gesturing for Blue to clink her bottle against his. 

“It’s never dull.” Blue replied. 

“That it ain’t.” Jax chuckled. “Your Pres seems less unstable than mine.” They both looked over at the table where Queenie had just won herself Juice’s watch. Jax laughed. “Though yours seems to have a gambling problem.”

“I see my gambling problem and raise you your low-level sociopath.” Blue nodded in the direction of Clay. He was still chatting to Jasmine, who was leaning her Barbie breasts on the bar and listening intently. 

“I’d take gambling any day. At least there’s rehab for that.” Jax said with a frown in Clay’s direction. He turned back to Blue with a shrug and a smile. “That’s what they’ve got us for anyway.”

“For sure.” Blue replied. There was an uncomfortable pause in which all Blue could think about was what Jax looked like under his oversized t-shirt and kutte. She felt herself blush as she shook her head to clear it. “What was the call? Biker shit?” 

“Nah,” Jax said, picking at a splinter on the bar. “My old lady.” 

“Tara, right?” Blue felt her blood boil. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, she just…” Jax sighed. “Nah, it’s nothing.” He smiled again. “My shit to deal with.” 

“That mentality is one that will get you in trouble whether you like it or not, Jax.” Blue said philosophically. “Shit should be shared. That’s what Lady always used to say.” 

“She seems to have been a wise woman.” 

“She was.” Blue said, looking over to Queenie. There were cheers from the watching Sirens as she won another hand, and desperate exchanges from the three sons at the table who were clearly losing. She watched Opie hold up his hands to deny being dealt anymore and wondered if he had indeed lost his house. Ginger emerged from church and slid into the poker booth, done with stitching up wounds. “Heart of gold, wise head on her shoulders, ruthless when pushed.” Blue shrugged. “Queenie definitely took after her more than I did.” 

“I don’t know.” Jax said, “You pretty much just described yourself.” His voice was soft and Blue’s heart pounded as she met his eyes. 

“I think it’s inevitable to take on some traits. You get any of Clay’s?” 

“I hope not.” Jax glanced at his own President thoughtfully. “I remember him being a far more civil man when Lady was still around Charming.” 

“She hated his guts by the end.” Blue said. 

“Can you blame her? The one thing you don’t do is cheat on an old lady.” He said heavily. 

Blue’s heart sank. He was right. It wasn’t done, so she had no chance. 

“I hope you and Tara can sort it out.” She said diplomatically, a sigh in her voice. Jax was looking at her deeply, his gaze fixed. “Part of me doesn’t want to.” 

Blue’s eyebrows knitted together in an uncontrollable frown. 

“What do you mean?” She asked breathlessly. 

“I mean…. I’ve had second thoughts.” Jax’s voice was little more than a growl as he glanced around to check that nobody was listening. The nearest people to them were Bonnie and one of the tail-chasers in a nearby booth getting dangerously close to a live-sex-show. “I can’t really talk about it here.” Jax said. “Don’t want to lose face around my boys.” 

“I think Ginger is done with church, we could go in there?” Blue asked as breezily as she could manage. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest at the thought of speaking with Jax alone. 

“We allowed?” Jax asked. 

“I’m VP, ain’t I?” Blue smiled as she uncrossed her tattooed leg and hopped down from the stool. “Come on.” She began to walk towards church. Jax stepped down effortlessly and strode after her. Queenie’s eyes met Blue’s as they passed the poker table and she raised a questioning eyebrow. Blue offered a minute head shake in response and Queenie made a subtle kissing motion and winked at her. Simultaneously Chibs made eye contact with Jax and mouthed three words: “Let her in.” He gave Jax a look that explained everything Jax needed to know. He nodded at Chibs and stepped up to church. Blue shook her head at Queenie and smiled at Jax as he held the door open to church for her. They disappeared into the dark room. 

“What’s that about?” Tig asked, his neck craned. 

“Never you mind.” Chibs replied. “Get back to losing your rings to the Pres here.” Queenie frowned at Chibs. Did he know too? Chibs winked at her. “Come on Juicey, deal it. It’s just getting interesting.” 

Juice did as he was told with a worried glance at Queenie. “Interesting?” Juice asked desperately. “I’ve got nothing left to gamble but my bike.” 

“Now I like those odds.” Queenie beamed at him. Juice gulped. “Don’t look so worried, Juice.” She teased, “I’d take your house before I took your bike. Could do with a holiday cottage in Charming town now the Veneno are off our backs.” She threw three chips into the middle. 

Juice opened his mouth to say  _ you’re welcome anytime  _ and then thought better of it. He turned over the first card. “Queen.” He said, his eyes still fixed on Queenie. 

“Of hearts.” She added, her soft green eyes meeting his brown ones. A moment passed between them as Juice felt his own heart pound. His mouth ran dry as he thought about what it would be like to kiss hers… before Tig broke the tension. 

“I fold.” He said, motioning to throw down his cards. He stopped as Queenie spoke.

“Awh, come on Tiggy.” Queenie teased as she broke eye contact with Juice and tapped Tig in the thigh with her foot. “It’s no fun if you don’t even try.” 

Tig looked at her deeply, his eyes only momentarily glancing down to her chest. He was admiring her tattoo, that was all. He sighed. “Fine.” And he removed the ring from his forefinger and placed it in. Queenie smiled her lipsticked smile at him, her eyes sparkling devilishly. 

Inside church Blue perched herself on the end of the table as Jax looked at the walls. He had been in the room but had never really had the chance to look around. 

“I bet it’s not as impressive as the Anarchy church.” Blue said ,swigging her bottle. 

“You’ll have to come and see it sometime, now you can get through Fresno without pissing off Veneño.” Jax smiled.

“I’d like that.” Blue smiled. 

Jax gestured at the hanging picture of the Siren First 8. “It’s so terrible what happened to them all. It must be hard on Black Widow.” 

“It’s hard on all of us.” Blue said, hopping off the table to stand beside him. He was a good head and shoulders taller than her. He looked down at her with a smile as she looked intently at the photo. 

“Of course.” He said apologetically. “But to have so many wiped out in such a short time. It’s unheard of.” 

“It’s what happens when you are strong women living in a man’s world.”

“Do you hate men as much as Queenie does?” Jax asked. 

“I wish you guys would stop assuming Queen hates men.” Blue said defensively. “She just doesn’t trust them, and I don’t blame her. She’s got demons. As do I.”

“We’ve all got demons.” Jax said, turning away from the photo and sitting at the table. Blue resumed her perch on the tabletop. She could smell his aftershave. It was making her feel heady, uncertain, not in control. Her tattooed thighs were in his outline, her skin inches from touching his. It had been a long time since she had felt this way around a man. She suddenly felt like a giggly school-girl. Jax pulled out a cigarette box. 

“Can I smoke in here?”

“Sure.” Blue said, pulling the ashtray from the middle of the table closer to them, stretching out across the tabletop to do so. Jax glanced quickly over her taught skin as she did so. “Need a light?” 

Jax allowed Blue to light his cigarette and then offered her one. She lit it up and put away her lighter. They inhaled companionably for a moment. 

“What were you saying before?” Blue asked as the silence grew too loud. “Second thoughts?” 

Jax nodded. He was pausing as though looking for the right words. “I’ve started thinking about Tara a lot.” Jax said thoughtfully. 

“Oh.” Blue sounded uncertain. What did he mean, a lot?

“She’s not old lady material.” Jax said, speaking Chibs’ suspicions. Blue hardly dared hope. “She can’t hack the life.” 

Blue’s heart did a flip. “Yeah. it’s not for everyone.” She thought carefully. “Did something happen specifically that made you start doubting?”

Jax met her eye for a moment, holding her gaze. 

“Yeah.” He said. “It did.”

“What?” Blue asked. His expression was intense but she did not look away. She needed to know. The pause went on for what seemed forever. 

“Meeting you.” Jax eventually said in a quiet tone. Blue’s stomach exploded into butterflies. 

“Me?” She asked with a dry mouth. 

“You.” Jax repeated. “You’re everything I never knew I was missing. And I’m not a soppy guy, but believe me when I say I can’t stop thinking about you, Blue.” 

Blue did not know how to respond to that. It was everything she had ever dreamed about. She opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish out of water. She  felt  like a fish out of water. 

“Taylor.” She said, eventually.

“What?” Jax frowned. It was not the response he was expecting. 

Blue frowned too, unsure entirely why she had chosen that as a response. 

“My name is Taylor.” She explained, then added quickly, “But if you ever call me that in front of anyone else I’ll slit your throat.” 

Jax laughed. “Noted.” He said. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Taylor.” Jax said softly. He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taylor. I’m Jackson, though only my mom calls me that.” 

Blue took his offered hand and he shook it. He did not let go once the shake was done. He held on to her hand and looked into her eyes, his coarse skin rubbing against her soft. It was like every moment in any teenage romance anywhere as he pulled her slowly closer to him. Blue’s heart drummed in her head, beating the words ‘trust him, trust him’. With his other hand Jax gently laid it on Blue’s thigh. He inclined his head to the side and she did the same. They kissed, and more than metaphorical fireworks burst around them. A nuclear mushroom went off in Blue’s head as Jax’s tongue found hers. It was passionate but gentle, speaking of months of denied feelings. Before she knew it she was laid on her back on the tabletop and Jax was climbing on top of her. She was pinned down by his strong frame and for the first time in a long time she didn’t give a damn. It was all she wanted. Her fingers found the hem of his kutte and began to tug it off of him as his hand ran up the back of her thigh, under her skirt...

“You can’t go in there!” Blue suddenly heard Queenie shout from outside the door. Before either Jax or Blue could react the door to church had burst open and a petite woman with curled brunette hair and a serious expression stood in the doorway. She looked over the scene and her expression turned to one of malice.

“Jax!” The woman screeched. 

“Tara!” Jax exclaimed, struggling as he tried to pull his kutte back around his shoulders and dismount the table. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Me? What about you?!” Tara stepped forward and yanked him off the table and away from Blue so hard he overbalanced and crashed into the filing cabinet. Blue sat up and pulled her skirt down, glaring at the newcomer. What the fuck was she doing here? Behind Tara the majority of both the Sirens and the Sons stood watching, either on the floor or on the booth seats. Even Bonnie and the tail-chaser had come up for air to look on. Queenie gave Blue an apologetic look. She was standing close to the door, arm outstretched as though she had gone to physically grab Tara. Blue turned her attention back to Tara as she spoke: “What do you think you’re doing with this whore?” 

“Jesus, Tara, is that why you asked where I was before? You wanted to stalk me?” Jax demanded. He was angry in tone as he gently helped Blue hop down from the table. His arm was bleeding from his impact with the filing cabinet. He stood between Blue and his old lady, glaring at Tara. “I didn’t invite you here. I don’t want you here. This is club business, not yours.” 

“Here, here.” Opie interjected. Tara glared at him. 

“Damn right I came down. You spend so much time with these bitches and now I know why.” Tara indicated Blue by moving her hand up and down. “Does she even own pants? I’m not surprised that an all female biker club are all sluts.”

There were angry shouts as the Sirens made to hold back Foxy, who had begun to launch herself across the room. Ginger, Black Widow and Angel hurried to restrain her.

“Tara, we need to talk in private.” Jax stepped closer to her. 

“Good idea.” Tara grabbed his arm. “Come on. We’re leaving.” 

“Now just wait a minute,” Tig chimed in. “You can’t just barge in on club business.”

“Club business is banging this whore? Is that all you guys have been doing around these girls?” Tara demanded. 

There was an atmosphere of hard, cold anger from every biker. Foxy started screaming abuse at Tara in Spanish. Phoenix shot her a look to shut her up. 

“I got this Tig,” Jax said, wrenching his arm out of Tara’s grip. 

“No you don’t.” Blue piped up angrily. Everyone fell silent to look at her. Tara’s nostrils flared as she turned to her. “This is between me and the bitch.” Blue gently pushed Jax to the side and stepped past him, squaring herself up to Tara. 

“Yeah. Jax is mine, slut.” Tara spat at Blue. There was a collective mutter behind them as Jax looked between the two. Blue, however, remained calm and collected. 

“We need to get something straight here.” Blue set about removing her pistol from her leg and her knife from her belt and laying them on the table. Tara was too busy glaring at her to notice that she was now shrugging off her kutte, preparing for a fight. The Sirens exchanged glances with the Sons. Clay simply shrugged at Queenie’s questioning expression. “You don’t own him. He’s not yours. Jax can make his own decision.” Blue spoke calmly. 

“Blue…” Queenie said warningly, ignoring Clay’s shrug and trying to heed her own VP. Blue shook her head at her. 

“I thought you people had a code.” Tara said. “But, I forgot. You’re all just savages.” 

More indignant chatter. Queenie and Bobby struggled to keep the throng back from the door as they jostled to get to Tara. If they weren’t careful it would turn into a bloodbath. Blue was tying her hair back now. “Maybe women bikers are different. Maybe it’s just a cover-up and really you’re all just prostitutes and whores.” Tara folded her arms. “Are you a whore, Blue?” She asked. 

Queenie closed her eyes exasperatedly. She knew what was coming now. That was the one thing Blue could not tolerate.

Blue simply smiled at Tara. It was a wolfish smile, like a cat might give a mouse. Then, in one movement, Blue swung her still ringed right hand and punched Tara hard across the face. Tara, not expecting it, dropped to the ground and spat blood. Around them the Sirens and Sons erupted in shouting and cheers. Jax side-stepped the fight and sought refuge amongst the Sons in the doorway, helping Queenie and Bobby hold them back. He was bewildered, not sure what to do. 

“She’s got this.” Queenie told him quietly, sensing his dilemma. “It needs to happen.” Jax nodded in agreement. Tara managed to pull herself into a sitting position but Blue stepped over Tara and lifted her up by her hair. Queenie had seen Blue fight enough times to know what was coming. She hadn’t served time for nothing. Blue delivered another punch to her face, then another ,and another. Tara fought back with slaps and clawing, cutting a deep slash into Blue’s cheek, but she was no match for such a trained fighter as Blue. 

“Do you know who I am, Tara?” Blue shrieked as she banged Tara’s head on the floor and then, still holding her by the hair, slammed her head off the table. “I’m Taylor fucking Williams.” Tara fell back on the ground, anger and hatred filling her swollen face. “And I am twice the bitch you will ever be.” Blue spat on her prize and wiped the blood from her cheek. “Never insult my club.” Blue turned her back on Tara and set about calmly returning her kutte and knife to their homes. Jax, staring at Blue in awe, aroused and a little frightened, stepped forward to help Tara up. 

“Get off me.” Tara slapped his hands away. 

“Maybe you should just go home, Tara.” Jax said. “Back to Charming. We’ll talk when I get back.” His eyes still could not leave Blue. 

“Forget Charming.” Tara said. “I think your little side piece just made it very clear where you stand. I’m going back to Chicago. I should never have returned.” And with that Tara pushed her way through the watching crowd and slammed out of the bar, muttering about whores and bikers and psychopaths. As soon as the door closed behind her the Sons and Sirens erupted in cheers and laughter. Chibs clapped Jax on the shoulder as Queenie squeezed through to help Blue into her kutte and assess her bleeding knuckles. 

“Good riddance?” Chibs asked Jax. 

“I’m sure there are other ways I could have gone about it.” 

“Nah.” Chibs said. “There is only one way this shit goes down. She probably didn’t deserve all of it but what can you do?” 

Jax smiled. “How long until I live down a woman fighting my battles?”

“I think we’ve come to accept it from this lot.” Chibs said with a laugh. 

Queenie put a hand on Blue’s scratched cheek. “You alright?” Queenie asked Blue softly. “You kind of lost it a bit there. You’re gonna need patching up.” 

“If I’d have lost it I would have killed the bitch.” Blue replied. “I’ll grab a couple’a strips from the kit.” 

“It’s good to see you so passionate about something.” Queenie said with a glance at Jax. “He’s a good guy, Blue.” 

Blue smiled in thanks to her. Queenie knew what that look meant and so made to leave church. She passed Jax entering and looked up at him. 

“If you hurt her, I’ll make that fight look like kids play.” Queenie threatened under her breath. 

“Received and understood.” Jax nodded. Queenie smiled and exited church. 

“Where did that come from?” Jax asked Blue with a smile. Blue stood against the table with her back to him, her leg up on the table top as she slotted her pistol back into place. 

“Haven’t you heard?” Blue turned to him with a smile. “I’m not just a bitch, I’m a psycho bitch.” She nodded at the mug-shot up on the wall behind Jax. He laughed. 

“That’s nothing.” He said, looking at her admiringly. Blue grinned back at him and turned to the rest of the Sons and Sirens. “Now is this a party or isn’t it?” She cried. Her cry was answered by cheers. 

“Drinks all round, Precious!” Queenie shouted with a hand-motion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of Chapter: Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood


	21. Season 1, Episode 7: The Call (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie finally reveals her feelings to Juice after her finds her in a compromising position. 
> 
> (Warning. V. Smutty chapter)

“Maybe call the gambling game there, Juicey.” Chibs said, “Before she takes your balls too.” Juice gulped as he looked down at his desperate tabletop and the pile of winnings in front of Queenie’s seat. He nodded. The group moved towards the bar, chatting companionably and leaving Juice alone to clear up. Queenie tentatively approached the gambling table and scraped her pile of winnings towards herself as best she could with her bandaged arm. Juice watched her as she pocketted the dollars and picked up the watch. 

“It’s a nice watch.” Queenie said thoughtfully. She ran her fingers over the cool metal as she considered it. 

“It was my grandpa’s.” Juice replied quietly. Queenie met his eye quickly. She paused, thinking about the conversation they had had earlier, and then held it out to him. 

“It wouldn’t fit me anyway.” She said. Juice looked at her uncertainly. “Take it back.” She assured him. 

Juice smiled at her. “Thanks.” He took it and his fingers brushed hers. An electric spark passed between them. Queenie quickly withdrew her hand. 

“Yeah, well. Call it your table fee.” She shrugged, then added. “I’ll teach you how to win sometime, huh?”

“I’d like that.” Juice said a little too eagerly. Queenie laughed as she turned away from him. She would like that too, but she couldn’t let herself be so vulnerable.

Over at the bar Blue watched the exchange with a frown on her face and Jax’s arm around her waist. She had been conquered, letting her walls fall down. Now it was time that Queenie did the same. 

Jax’s hand slid up Blue’s back and closed around her shoulder. She looked up at him. The adrenaline was wearing off now and she was feeling the pain. 

“I’ve never had girls fighting over me before.” Jax smiled in a manner that showed he was pleased with himself. 

“Yeah, well.” Blue couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t get used to it. You’re not that special.” 

Jax laughed through his nose. “You want to go and have a smoke?” He asked, his eyes shining. Blue blinked. Part of her was worried that he had let Tara go too easily, that he could easily do the same to her, but then she didn’t know the full story. All she knew for sure was he seemed to harbour the same feelings for her as she did for him. She smiled. 

“I know a good spot for a private smoke.” Blue whispered.

“I like the sound of that.” Jax grinned. Blue took his hand and led him away from the group and towards the door marked ‘Employees Only’. 

Queenie, walking over from the table where Juice was still tidying up, watched with a smile as Blue let Jax through to the apartment behind. Queenie paused for a moment, watching the door swing shut and hearing mutterings from the club about ‘getting lucky’. She felt Juice walk by her and watched as he pulled up a stool beside Bobby and Chibs. She considered the quiet Puerto-Rican for a moment as she stood alone in the middle of the bar. He was more than enough for her. Deep down she knew he would never hurt her, he would treat her right, but right now she didn’t want to be treated right. She wanted to take control of her feelings, lock them away and throw away the key. Feelings had no place in her body right now, especially not for Juice. She didn’t need feelings. She needed to get lucky. Her thoughts turned momentarily to Jax and Blue and what they might be doing very soon. Since this whole Veneno business had started coming to a head Queenie had not come at all. She couldn’t even remember the name of the last tail-chaser she had slept with. She looked around the bar. All of the tail-chasers were busy with other Sirens. She couldn’t deny her companions their rewards. She zoned out, thinking about calling someone especially, but her usual booty calls were expensive and she wanted someone who actually wanted her and not her money, but not wanted her enough to catch feelings. It was seeming that she would be alone tonight after all. 

“I, er, brought you a cold one.” Tig loomed up in front of her, breaking her out of her thoughts and holding out a beer. “I would have paid for it too, if you hadn’t taken all my cash in the game.” He smiled to show he was joking. Queenie smiled back and accepted the bottle. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so shit at poker you wouldn’t have been beaten by a girl.” She shrugged coyly and swigged the brew. 

Tig’s smile widened. “Hey, if I wanted to beat you at something I could, girl or no girl.” He glanced down at the crown on her chest. Yep, she was definitely a woman. 

Queenie watched his eyes snap back to hers and smirked. “Wanna prove it?” She asked. Queenie felt that familiar feeling bubbling up inside her, the siren threatening to dash this sailor against the rocks. 

“What you got in mind?” Tig asked, his eyes twinkling mischeviously. Queenie’s smirk matched his eyes. 

“Come with me.” Queenie said seductively. She inclined her head for him to follow her and led him towards the back door that led out to the bin yard. As she passed the redundant poker table she swiped the pack of cards off of it. Tig, glancing around and realising nobody was watching them, smiled to himself in a congratulatory manner and followed her out. 

It was dark outside, late in the evening. The small courtyard was lit by a single orange floodlight and the half-moon filling the sky. Queenie gestured for Tig to follow her around the side of the bar, away from the door, the dumpsters and the light and towards a rickety picnic bench that had clearly seen better days. Even in this dim light Tig could make out the neat curves of her leather-bound ass in her tight trousers. She slammed the card deck down onto the table top and turned to face him. 

“What are we doing out here?” Tig asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and seduction. The place was secluded and hidden and he recognised the way she was looking at him. He’d slept with enough women to know that look, and he’d slept with her more than once. He stepped up to her. She waited for him to do so, leaning both hands against the table behind her so that her chest was pushed out. He swigged his beer to lubricate his dry mouth and noticed how the moonlight made Queenie’s unusually green eyes burn gold. 

“You wanted to beat me at a game.” She said. 

“Yeah.” Tig said uncertainly. He was forcing himself to keep looking at her eyes and not further south. 

“But you failed at Texas Hold’em. So how about an incentive this time?” She held up the pack of cards. “Strip poker.” Her eyes twinkled. 

Tig’s own eyes widened and a dopey grin spread across his face. He liked the sound of that. He liked the sound of that very much. 

“Isn’t poker a little difficult with only two players?” He asked, not entirely sure why he was arguing. It was the way she was looking at him, like she could eat him alive. There was something about that look, too, that gave him stirrings below the belt. He could smell her perfume from this close distance, count the freckles on her nose. She smiled a smile that showed off her perfect teeth. He imagined those teeth biting him. 

“True.” She said, putting the cards down again and sliding a hand under his kutte, her fingertips breaching the holes between his shirt buttons. His breath caught in his throat. The feel of her soft skin on his chest caused more stirrings. Christ, when was the last time he had felt this way around a woman? Why did this particular one always make him want to drop everything and give over? Maybe she actually  _ was  _ a siren. “How about,” She spoke in a breathy voice that held his captivation, “We just strip?” 

She bit her lip and Tig lost it. 

“Yes ma’am.” He said hungrily, pressing himself into her. Before he could help himself he was kissing her hard, his hands in her hair and running over her chest, pushing her up against the cold wall of the building. She kissed him back and bit his lip, her hands in his hair and finding his shirt buttons. She unbuttoned them so fast it was a wonder she didn’t rip them. He shrugged out of his kutte and helped her out of hers, his hands sliding down to that perfect ass. It was hot, hard and hungry. As he effortlessly one of her legs to straddle him and kissed down her neck Queenie rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. This was what she wanted, right? So why did her thoughts keep turning to Juice? She forced herself to think about anything else, unzipping her trousers and pushing Tig’s head down. He knew the drill. 

Through the wall in the bedroom of the Atlantis apartment Blue handed Jax a cigarette and lit one for herself. He was looking at the posters on the walls. 

“You know,” He said, “I’m not sure what I expected but it wasn’t this.” He nodded at the poster of a naked woman atop a Harley Davidson. 

“Funnily enough they don’t tend to do too many smut posters for the female gaze.” Blue said, perching awkwardly on the bed beside Jax. They were barely touching and yet the atmosphere was thick with sexual tension. 

“Really?” Jax asked, “That does surprised me. Maybe me and the guys should do a calendar? Help the cause.” He laughed.

“Can you imagine Bobby as Mr. July?” Blue asked with a stifled giggle.

“Hey,” Jax said, mock offended. “I’ll have you know that Bobby is someones kind of beautiful.” He laughed. 

“Oh, I know.” Blue agreed. “Women would lap that shit up.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll get Bobby fitted for a stars-and-stripes mankini.” Jax took a long drag with a smirk. 

“Happy Fourth of July to women everywhere.” Blue laughed. 

There was a pause as Blue stretched her bloodied knuckles. “I’m sorry about earlier.” She sighed. “I’m not sure what came over me. I just - it’s taken me this long to admit that I like you, and then we kissed and things started to happen and then Tara showed up.”

“Look, don’t apologise. Tara has always been a clingy bitch and it’s only got worse since she came back. I should have never gotten involved with her again. She was wrong for me in high school and she’s wrong for me now.” Jax pulled agitatedly at his beard. 

“Mm.” Blue mused. “Or maybe it was a sign from God that you and me aren’t meant to be.” 

“But she’s gone. You beat her. Doesn’t that prove we are meant to be.”

“It proves I’m more brutal than she is.”

“Better brutal than a pussy.” Jax said. He stubbed out his cigarette and put a hand on Blue’s uninjured cheek. She turned to him, her own cigarette falling into the ashtray as he leant in and kissed her gently on the lips. “I don’t want to talk about Tara anymore.” His voice was breathy. “I don’t want to talk about anything anymore.” He kissed her again, and this time it was a scoop of passion that left Blue breathless. Jax pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her, the full weight of his form pressing down on her. His kiss was deep, his tongue urgent. She met his embrace with equal passion, her hands running through his hair and down his back. She pulled at his kutte and he allowed her to remove it. Her hands ran over his chest as he kissed hers. She pulled at his t-shirt, sending it up and over his head and onto the floor. He took a moment, kneeling over her and running his hands through his hair, his breath heavy and ragged. She traced his six-pack with her fingers as he moved down to kiss her again. Her fingers found his zipper and fumbled with it, her legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord. He rolled, pulling her on top of him. She could feel him hard beneath her. She shrugged off her kutte and kissed his neck as he ran his hands up her legs, over her ass and into her t-shirt. His fingers found her bra clasp expertly and he moved to unhook it… 

There was a knock on the door. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Blue muttered as Jax’s hands slackened on her bra and his arms bounced off the bed. “Jesus Christ.” She shook her head. “What!?” She called angrily. 

“Blue?” It was Juice. “Sorry. You seen Queenie?” He asked through the door. Jax couldn’t see him but he was pretty sure he was rubbing the back of his neck in the way he always did when he was nervous.

“We’re a bit busy right now, Juice.” Jax called. Blue glared at the door. Beneath her Jax began to laugh silently. 

“Right. Sorry. She’s probably outside.” Juice replied. They heard him walk away.

“Fucking Juice, man.” Jax muttered. 

Blue shook her head and swung herself off of Jax to lay beside him, his arm under her head. “You know what I was saying about not meant to be?” She said with a sigh. 

“Hey.” Jax said, “Don’t think like that. It’s just a sign that we gotta take things slow, alright?” 

Blue nodded. “Yeah.” She didn’t sound sure. 

Juice stepped out into the growing cold of the night outside the bar. He rubbed his goosepimpled arms in his t-shirt and looked around the parking lot. There was no sign of any life out here except a fox running away with a sack of rubbish in its mouth. Definitely not Tara, thankfully, but no Queenie either. Juice decided to take a moment to have a breather from the noise and bustle of inside. It was quiet out here, and his head was reeling with thoughts of Queenie. What had she meant when she told him she was damaged earlier that day. Was it just a deflection of the tender moment they had been having? Or was it all in his head and she didn’t like him in that way at all. Juice closed his eyes. All around him, everyone seemed to be finding love, or as close to it as they could get in this line of work. Juice rubbed the back of his neck and crossed the parking lot to sit on the low wall. He closed his eyes and listened to the silence. Could he handle a woman like Queenie, or would she eat him alive? Were his feelings even real or was he just in love with the idea? As he listened to the enclosing silence his left ear suddenly pricked up. Somewhere around the back of the bar he could hear a noise he was very familiar with from long party nights back at TM. It was the sound of Tig getting his kicks. Juice got to his feet and began to tentitively tiptoe towards the noise. Now that he could hear it he wondered how he had missed it. Tig wasn’t subtle, he wasn’t quiet and he wasn’t discreet. Juice wondered who he had found out here, in the land of strong, independent women, to fuck. Juice felt his heart sink. In his heart of hearts he knew, he just didn’t want to believe it. He rounded the corner past the dumpsters, startling another fox foraging underneath. The space here was lit only by a dim, orange floodlight. Juice kept to the shadows as he followed the sound. It was much louder here, and he could make out a feminine call in response. Just outside of the light’s radius Juice could make out Tig’s shape. His kutte was on the floor, his pants around his ankles and his shirt hanging open. Attached to him, her bare, shapely, tattooed leg cocked around his waist, his hands firmly holding her perfect ass, was Queenie. Her plum-coloured satin blouse, the one that Juice had imagine unbuttoning himself, was hanging open and he could make-out more tattoos covering her stomach. She was gripping on to Tig’s shoulder with one hand and a broken wall-lamp with the other, grinding with his rapid pounding. Juice felt himself fighting tears as he watched them both climax, loudly. Clearly he had been kidding himself that she felt the same about him. As Queenie unhooked herself from Tig, who leant weakly against the wall, and began to button up her shirt, Juice turned to leave. As he wiped his eyes angrily, however, he tripped over a bag of bottles that the fox had disturbed and stumbled, loudly. He glanced over his shoulder to see both Tig and Queenie looking at him. Queenie had a pained expression on her face. Juice caught her eye and felt his heart crumple. She quickly bent to reapply her trousers, but Juice had already turned and started to leave. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say right now.

“You should have announced yourself, Juicey!” Tig called after him, pulling up his own trousers, “You could have joined in!” 

Queenie hit Tig angrily in the chest, collected her boots and kutte and hurried after Juice in her bare feet. 

“What?” Tig called after her. “That it?” He shrugged on his kutte. 

“This was a mistake.” Queenie shouted over her shoulder.

“It didn’t feel like it.” Tig shouted. Queenie stopped, paused, and turned back to him. 

“It wasn’t a mistake, Tig, but it can’t happen again. I’m sorry. It’s been fun but all I’m doing it putting off my own feelings.” Queenie began to walk away again, “Use the back door.” She called as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Tig to button up his own shirt and contemplate his life choices. 

Queenie rounded the corner of the bar, ignoring the glass dust she was walking through in her bare feet, and caught up with Juice outside the front door. He was walking slowly, his head hanging low.

“Juice, hey.” Queenie called after him, “Wait.” 

Juice took a deep breath and turned to face her. 

“What’s up?” He forced himself to sound upbeat and allowing Queenie to reach him. 

“Let me explain.” Queenie started, not knowing how to explain in the slightest. 

“There’s nothing to explain.” He shrugged nonchalantly, though he felt sick inside. “You can fuck whoever you want to fuck. You can date whoever you want to date. It’s a free country. Land of the free.” He sarcastically waved invisible flags before letting his arms fall again. 

“Juice…” Queenie said quietly. Juice shrugged again and turned away from her, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Wait!” Queenie gripped his arm. He didn’t turn to her but he closed his eyes at her touch. She seemed to realise and let go again. He turned. 

“What.” He said, his forced upbeat tone breaking rapidly. “Tig is a great guy. You’ll make a great pair.” 

“I don’t want to date Tig.” Queenie shook her head and lowered her voice. “Christ, Juice, I don’t even particularly like him.” 

“It’s cool.” His voice was strained. “You don’t gotta lie to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you.” Queenie replied. “You know who Tig is. Who I am. This was nothing more than a quick fuck to celebrate being alive.” 

“Why him?” Juice suddenly sounded as though he might cry. He cleared his throat angrily to change it. “Why not one of your tail-chasers, or have you blown through them all already?” Juice let out a forced laugh. “Pun intended.” 

“You wanna know why him?” Queenie herself sounded like she was about to cry. “Because he was easy. He was convenient. He meant I didn’t have to think about anything. I didn’t have to think about…” She tailed off and looked away from Juice. She slapped her own cheek to clear her mind. “I told you Juice. I’m damaged goods. I go through guys like fuel. I’m not old lady material.” 

“Think about what?” Juice asked. He was looking intently at her, a slight frown on his brow. 

“What?” Queenie caught herself. The ground was cold beneath her feet and a breeze blew through her blouse.

“You said you didn’t have to think about… What didn’t you have to think about?” Juice asked, folding his arms. 

Queenie swallowed hard. She met his eye and held his gaze, her eyes big and earnest. 

“Nothing.” She said, blinking to avoid crying. 

Juice sighed. “I just thought…” He started, then stopped.

“What?” Queenie prompted. 

“Never mind.” Juice said. “I’m sorry I walked in on you. Go back to your easy fuck.” Juice shrugged and began to turn away again. Queenie ran to stand in front of him, dropping her boots and putting her hands on his chest to stop him. 

“You can’t keep doing this to me.” She spat angrily. Juice looked down at her hands on him and then back at her face. 

“Me? What am I doing that you didn’t start?” Juice pressed slightly into her hands.

“Jesus Christ, Juice. Just be  _ real  _ with me here. I can’t keep doing this!” Her voice was uncontrollably broken.

“Queenie, I’m being as real as I can. What more do you want?!” He wrapped his hands around her wrists tightly.

A moment passed between them. Then, passionately, Juice put his hands either side of her face and pulled her in for the most anticipated kiss of his life. For a moment she kissed him back, letting her feelings burst to the surface. He pressed into her, their bodies becoming one. 

As soon as it had started it finished and Queenie pushed Juice away. 

“I can’t do this.” She said, “I told you, I’m wrong for you.” 

And with that she turned and ran away across the parking lot, her feet bare and bleeding. She climbed into her pick-up truck and sped away out of sight, leaving Juice confused and broken behind her. 

As midnight ticked by and  _ The Weight  _ came on the jukebox, Tig was sitting alone at a table, nursing his undrunk beer and staring into space. His mind was filled with whether he had allowed himself to be used or he had used Queenie. He looked over at the rest of the guys happily celebrating with the Sirens. None of them had noticed that he had disappeared to bang their Queen. 

In the bedroom Blue stared at the ceiling, her head still resting on Jax’ arm as they shared a cigarette. He was still shirtless and she could hear his heartbeat softly beneath her head. 

Juice remained outside, resuming his perch on the wall and crossing his arms around himself and battling the feelings in his mind. He closed his eyes, thinking about the kiss. He had never felt this way about a woman. He had never been kissed like that. He absent-mindedly touched his lips and thought about what he should do with these feelings. He thought about the way she had looked wrapped around Tig. His stomach flipped as he thought her wrapping herself around him like that. 

Across town Queenie let herself in to her dark studio apartment. She didn’t bother with the light, instead simply put her keys and gun on the counter and launched herself face-down on the couch. Her eyes were parallel with the knife marks on the coffee table and she could see her own abandoned underwear on the carpet from the last time she was visited by a tail-chaser. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes. She touched her lips and thought about the kiss with Juice. He had kissed her, there was no denying that, but was it jealousy or was it genuine feelings. Queenie sighed as she stared at the darts in the ceiling. Now would be the time to re-evaluate her life, but was it too late to change? She had been like this for so long it was hard to imagine anything else. Queenie sighed and sat upright. From under the couch she pulled out a small black book bound tightly with string. She unwound the string and opened the book to the back page, letting the picture slide out. It was old, at least ten years, and had clearly been looked at so many times that it was fragile to the touch. It was of a baby in a buggy, her chubby cheeks smiling as she reached out for the person behind a camera. She had her mother’s dark hair and unusual green eyes. Queenie, for the first time in a long time, let out a sob that shook her whole body. She let the book slide to the ground and kept the photograph firmly held in her fingers as she broke down in tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of Chapter: The Weight - The Band


	22. Season 1, Episode 8: A Sign of the Times (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back finally!! 
> 
> Queenie and Blue come to blows as tensions run high in the Sirens MC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the Chapter: Unraveling by Sevendust

Today was a new day. 

The Veneno threat was conquered, the deed done. The Sons were to head back to Charming that afternoon and the Sirens were to join them in a few days, able to finally leave the county for the first time in a long time. They were free, nothing could touch them now. 

Blue couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye to Jax even though they would be seeing each other soon. Something about facing Veneno had given them a bigger outlook on life and Blue was fast beginning to believe in all those bullshit fairy tales. Jax was far from a Prince Charming, but he was the Prince of Charming and that was a start. 

Blue tracked down Jax as he was preparing his bike to leave. She had been tied up in overseeing church when Queenie hadn’t shown up that morning and so had hardly had time to track him down. For a moment she simply stood and watched him, her arms folded and her face a mask as she wondered what it all meant for them now she had squared off against Tara. Blue wasn’t Old Lady material. She could and would never conform the way Tara had. 

“Hey,” Jax said as he looked up with a small smile, “I didn’t hear you.” 

“No.” Blue confirmed. “You’re heading back to Charming?”

“That’s the plan.” Jax avoided her eye. 

There was a long pause. 

“The fuck are we doing, Jax?” Blue folded her arms. 

“Standing in a garage.” Jax suggested. He knew what she meant, he just didn’t fancy the drama.

“You know what I mean.” Blue frowned. “You and me. We a thing, or…?”

Jax swallowed and stopped sorting his bike to give her his undivided attention. “You wanna be?”

Blue sucked her teeth. “I don’t know. I’m not Old Lady material. I’m not gonna treat you good.” Blue felt suddenly guilty. She had chased off his actual Old Lady and now she was taking it all back. 

“What makes you think I need treating good?” Jax mirrored her stance. “I can take care of myself, Blue.” 

There was another pause. 

“I just want to have fun.” Blue said. “That’s all. I don’t know if I want or can even hold a relationship. Even if I can now visit Charming unhindered.” 

Jax shrugged. He wasn’t going to let Blue know how much her words hurt. He had given up so much for her and now she was taking it back. “Fair enough.” Jax turned back to his bike. “That’s that then. Fun.” 

“Fun.” Blue swallowed. She could feel herself turning into Queenie. She hated it. But she knew it would end in disaster if she tried to force a relationship. She, like Queenie, was damaged goods. She had a past. Jax didn’t need that baggage. Jax didn’t say another word and Blue took his silence as dismissal. She slipped her hands into her back pockets and sloped away to the clubhouse, scowling. It was for the best. She couldn’t maintain a relationship. She wasn’t a whore. She wasn’t an Old Lady. She was just… Blue. 

Blue entered the clubhouse and saw Queenie standing behind the bar with a frown on her face. She was wearing yesterday’s clothes and looked like she hadn’t slept, her make-up all around her eyes like a panda. She was pouring vodka into a pint of Bloody Mary and staring straight ahead. 

“I know that look.” Blue said, hitching herself up onto a bar stool and pulling a bottle of beer closer to her. Queenie put down the stirring stick and raised her eyes to look at her VP. 

“There’s no look.” Queenie said with a small smile. 

“Mm.” Blue said, unconvinced. Queenie had been quite distant all morning following the events of the afterparty. She hadn’t spoken to anyone much at all. Blue knew it was because she no longer had a purpose. The Veneno threat was done, and Queenie never functioned well when idle. “You sad the boys are going or happy to see the back of them?”

“I don’t feel nothin.” Queenie chugged half of the Bloody Mary and made a face accordingly. 

“Your face doesn’t agree.” Blue sipped the beer. “What is it?” 

There was a long silence as Queenie ran her tongue around the inside of her lips, thinking. “It was good having them on board. Veneno is done. Sons are heading back and we have a working partnership now. I call that a success…” She hesitated. “So why ain’t I happy?” 

Blue nodded, understanding. She knew exactly what Queenie was feeling. “We let the Sons get under our skin.” 

“Let them get somewhere.” Queenie sighed bitterly and finished the Bloody Mary. Blue gave her a pitying look. Queenie met her eye. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pity me.” 

“I’m not.” Blue said. She wasn’t being entirely truthful. “I just think you’d be happier if you told Juice the truth before they left.” 

“Like you told Jax?” Queenie snapped. Blue jerked as though she slapped her. “Don’t preach to me, Blue. You and I both know Juice can’t handle me. I would break him.” She dropped the glass into the sink with a clatter and gripped the bar. Blue waited, knowing there was more. Sure enough… “I think you’re an idiot, by the way. Letting Jax go. He’s a good guy and he’d be good for you.” 

Queenie walked away before Blue could argue, out the front door to where the guys were preparing to leave. Blue angrily swigged more of her beer and slammed the bottle down. She wished Queenie would follow her own advice and stop thinking she knew best. She didn’t always know best and that was a fact. Blue swore under her breath and got to her feet to bid the boys farewell. Queenie thought she was so clever but she was wrong. Q thought she was the only martyr in this club. She was wrong. They all had a past. They all had baggage. They all had reasons why they should stay single. Blue certainly wasn’t going to give in to her feelings for Jax. 

Not even when he smiled at her from his motorcycle as she left the clubhouse, and tapped his pocket to indicate Blue could and should still call him. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t give in to these feelings. 

Yet she couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness as the Sons pulled away and headed back to Charming. The Sirens had assembled in the parking lot and Queenie had shook Clay’s hand, thanking him for all of his help. She avoided Tig’s eye and looked away from Juice smiling at her. Blue felt a flare of anger for Queenie, thinking her an idiot. Juice was a good man, everyone could see that, and he would be good for Queenie. He might even stabilise her. Blue knew she was an idiot too for letting Jax go. At least they could go to Charming whenever they wanted now Veneno was gone. 

“Come on ladies.” Queenie said as the Sons pulled out of sight. “We have a clubhouse to clean up and new found freedom to fill with fun.” She forced a smile as the Sirens cheered and headed into the clubhouse after her. 

Blue hung back, as did Black Widow. She was on her cell, typing ferociously, and seemed to not even have heard Queenie. Blue frowned at her and stepped a little closer. 

“I’ll bet you’re glad to see them go.” Blue said. 

Black Widow jumped and looked up. “Blue.” She said, closing the cell and pocketing it. “Yeah. Good riddance.” 

“So you and Clay didn’t iron out your differences?” Blue lit a cigarette and offered one to Black Widow. She took it with her long slender figures and let Blue light it. 

“No fear.” Black Widow said. “Clay Morrow can still die at his nearest convenience for all I care.” 

“I think Queenie has come to trust him in spite of everything.” Blue said conversationally as she took a long drag. 

“Queenie is a fool.” Black Widow said before she could stop herself. Blue stared at her, her face a mask of shock. Black Widow’s eyes widened as she realised just exactly what she had said. She shrugged it off with a bark-like laugh and took a long drag. “A joke.” She said. 

“Oh.” Blue let out a false laugh. She wasn’t convinced in the slightest. It was no secret that Black Widow did not trust or like Queenie. For the first time Blue wondered if Black Widow was capable of overthrowing her, staging a coup and dethroning the Queen. Black Widow looked away from Blue to indicate she had finished talking about it. Blue kept her outlined eyes narrowed on Black Widow. Blue didn’t always like Queenie, especially at the moment, but it was her duty and her job to protect her from mutiny. Was Black Widow planning just that? Blue looked at the floor as she tried to think what to do. Should she tell Queenie? Or had Black Widow meant it as a joke, and would telling Queenie cause more trouble. Blue fought with her own mind as she stubbed out her cigarette. “Church.” She said to Black Widow, reminding her in one word that she had a duty and loyalty to this club. 

Black Widow looked up and Blue observed her reaction carefully. Her eyes were heavy and a little narrowed as she nodded curtly. Blue narrowed her own eyes at her. There was definitely something going on. Blue suddenly felt fiercely protective of Queenie even if she was pissed off with her. 

“You should go home, Q.” Blue said. Night had fallen outside the clubhouse and Queenie was still working hard, pouring over papers and maps of the surrounding areas of Corona. 

“Why?” Queenie said. “What’s there for me that isn’t here?” She gestured at the bourbon bottle that she was swigging from straight. 

Blue sighed and slid into the booth opposite her President. It was clear Queenie was a lost soul. 

“You need to take a break.” Blue said cautiously. “You’re no good to any of us drunk and bitter.” Blue made to remove the bourbon but Queenie slapped her hand away and pulled the bottle closer. 

“Newflash,” Queenie said, “I’m always drunk and bitter.” 

Blue blinked at her patiently. 

“Sorry.” Queenie said eventually. “I know you mean well.”

“I mean to get you out of the gutter before you drag this club down with it.” Blue said before she could stop herself. Queenie stared at her. 

“I’m sorry.” Queenie said carefully, her voice laced. It wasn’t a question, nor was it an apology. It was a warning, one Blue had heard many a time. 

“If you were more focused on this club you would notice that we might have a rat in our ranks.” Blue said. “But no, you’re too busy moping because too many guys want you or whatever teenage bullshit means you’re drinking all the fucking time.” Blue shook her head. “You make me sick sometimes, Q. You’re such a privileged princess. You’re fucked up.” The words were coming out of her mouth before she could stop them. She knew she didn’t really mean any of them, or if she did it was only because she knew they were also true of herself. 

“Me?!” Queenie scoffed. She was so angry that she hadn’t even noticed the rat comment. She slammed the book shut in front of her and pushed it to the side. “We’re gonna talk about fucked up?” Queenie’s green eyes glittered with malice. “I’m not the one who hasn’t been laid in so long that she jumps on the nearest man who gives me attention. I’m not the one who mopes around all day because I’m in love with a good man and I hate it. I’m not the one who has so many fucked up daddy issues that she can’t admit it.” Queenie spat back. 

Blue launched to her feet. Queenie knew mentioning Blue’s dad would be a step too far and yet she had gone there. Queenie matched her movement, her hands on her hips. 

“We wanna talk about daddy issues?!” Blue shouted. “At least I know who my parents are! My parents actually gave a fuck about me for at least of my childhood. Unlike you! You wanna talk about daddy issues? What about so many fucking family issues that you fuck anything with a pulse who so much as says your name. I’m not the one who fucked Tig, of all people, so many times I lost count! I’m not the one who hates myself so much that I won’t let men fuck me face to face! I’m not the one who has slept with every male whore in Corona!” 

“At least I know they’ll actually fuck me.” Queenie snarled. “I don’t have to dye my hair and make myself tough because really I’m just a scared little girl who couldn’t stand up to her own daddy.” 

Blue glared at her. In a split second, her mind going into overdrive, she pulled out her gun and pointed it at Queenie. Queenie, in a heartbeat, mirrored the motion. For a while they stood there, guns raised and pointed at each other, breathing heavily. 

Then, finding some control, Blue lowered her gun again. “No.” She said quietly. “You don’t have to hide how scared you are. It’s pretty fucking obvious.” Blue felt herself shaking with rage. “Why Lady thought you could lead the Sirens I will never know. Call yourself Italian. You don’t know the first thing about  _ famiglia.  _ You gave  _ up _ your family. You gave up your  _ daughter _ . You give up everything. You’re a coward, Queenie.” 

There was a heavy silence in the bar. Queenie still had her gun raised but her eyes were suddenly filled with tears. 

“Go home or don’t. Drink yourself to death or don’t. I don’t care.” Blue said. She glared at Queenie one last time before storming from the bar. A second later the sound of her bike filled the silence and Queenie finally lowered her gun. She was trembling, fighting the tears that wanted to flow from her eyes. She let them, sinking into the chair she had vacated and setting down her gun. She and Blue hadn’t fought like that in a long time. Somehow this time it felt much more real. 

Queenie let herself cry for a moment as everything hit her. Lady. Veneno. The Sons. Tig. Juice. Her own cowardice. Blue was right. Queenie let out a scream of fury and launched the rest of the bottle at the wall. It smashed and scattered everywhere. Queenie didn’t care. She grabbed her keys and headed home. They had dealt with Veneno but somehow there still seemed to be a looming threat above them all. 


	23. Season 1, Episode 8: A Sign of the Times (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Blue deal with the rat problem at Sirens MC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack of the Chapter: Secret by the Pierces

Queenie’s apartment was quiet and dark. It was hard to imagine it being the party hub it had been all those nights ago. It had been a different time then. Queenie didn’t bother to turn on the lights as she entered. She bolted the door and flopped straight onto the couch, the moon streaming through the window the only source of light. It shone down on her face on the couch and on the wall behind. Queenie thought over everything she had said to Blue. She had regretted it as soon as she had said it. She was still trembling. They had fought before but not like this, not for a long time. Queenie suddenly felt helplessly lonely. Blue had been right. She was a coward. She put on a front all the time because she was just a scared little girl… it had been her, not Blue, who fit that description. Queenie rolled onto her side and looked up at the wall lit by the moonlight. A photo of Lady hung there looking down at her. Queenie sat up, the leather of her trousers creaking, and unhooked the frame. She gently stroked Lady’s smiling face and felt the urge to cry again. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Queenie sobbed to the photo. “I can’t follow in your footsteps. I didn’t defeat Veneno. They did. He did. Clay. I don’t know why you chose me, Lady. I can’t… I’m too…” Queenie suddenly frowned, the movement interrupting the tears. She suddenly remembered what Blue had said about a rat. It had been before the argument, before the horrible words were spoken. Queenie sat forward and put Lady’s photo down. What the Hell did Blue mean by a rat? 

Queenie was saved wondering anymore by the sudden sound of her cell buzzing from where she had left it on the counter as she had entered. She launched to her feet and snatched it up, hoping it would be Blue. 

It was Phoenix. Queenie answered anyway, sniffing to clear the waver from her voice. 

“Yes?” She said. 

“It’s the clubhouse, Q.” Phoenix said. “It’s on fire.” 

“What?!” Queenie snapped, her heart hammering. 

“The fire department is here. It’s just the back room, contained. You should get down here.” Phoenix rang off, silence filling the room once more. Queenie snatched up her keys and headed out without a second glance. She knew she had tear tracks down her cheeks and she hadn’t slept in days, but there were more important things. 

Things weren’t as bad as Queenie had imagined. She pulled up her bike beside Blue’s and climbed off before the engine even cut. The flames had been contained to the back room as Phoenix had said. Chief Wilson was commanding the scene and keeping emergency response in check. Blue, Phoenix and Black Widow stood back from the clubhouse. Queenie sidled up beside Blue. They exchanged glances but neither mentioned their argument. 

“What happened?” Queenie asked. It was the middle of the night and freezing despite the flames. 

“Willy suspects arson.” Black Widow said darkly. 

“Arson?” Queenie stared at her. 

“They found a molotov launched through the back window.” Blue explained. Queenie frowned at her. If anyone knew her molotovs it was Blue. 

“Who the hell would attach our turf?” Queenie demanded. 

“Ah, Queenie.” Chief Wilson turned to see her and headed over. 

“Willy.” Queenie said, meeting him halfway. “What do you know?”

“You got any enemies?” Willy asked, holding up a burned scrap of paper. On it was simply drawn a viper. “That was attached to the molotov.” 

Queenie’s heart plummeted into her stomach and her mouth dropped open. “No.” She breathed.

“Q?” Blue asked, stepping up to her. Queenie handed her the scrap with trembling fingers. “Veneno.” Blue said. “But they’re all dead…!” 

“Clearly not.” Queenie pulled herself together, ignoring her trembling. She turned to Phoenix and Black Widow. “It’s Veneno.” She said. 

“What?!” Phoenix demanded. 

“How?!” Black Widow spat. 

“Should we call Clay?” Blue asked quietly. 

“No.” Queenie said quickly. “We don’t need boys to do our dirty work.” She looked to Phoenix. “Get the ladies in. Emergency throne room. Now.” 

“Is that wise, Q.” Black Widow said as Phoenix raised her phone. She hesitated, looking to Black Widow. “Getting us all in one place. What if that’s just what they want?” 

Queenie frowned at her. Again the words buzzed around her head:  _ rat.  _ She swallowed and nodded. “Right. Just us then.” Her tone became authoritative again. As she spoke, Bonnie pulled up on her bike. 

“What are you doing here?” Blue asked. It was odd that the prospect was here when the patched members were not. She remembered her own suspicions and wondered if Bonnie might just be the rat. 

“Phoenix called me.” Bonnie explained. “How bad is it?”

“Contained to the back room.” Phoenix replied.

“Shall we get the others in?” Bonnie asked.

“No.” Queenie replied curtly. She turned to Willy. “Can we access the throne room?” 

“Er,” Chief Wilson was taken aback by the fire in her eyes. “Yes. I think so. We’ll finish up in the back room. Take photos and…” 

Queenie had already stalked off in the direction of the throne room. Blue, Phoenix, Black Widow and Bonnie followed her. 

“What’s the plan, Q?” Black Widow asked as she fell in pace with Queenie. 

Queenie pulled open the throne room doors and didn’t answer to begin with. She settled herself in her chair and waited for those present to do the same. 

“Is it Veneno?” Bonnie asked. Queenie and Blue frowned at her, the scrap still in Blue’s hand. They were suspicious. Blue, who up until now had been fairly sure the rat was Black Widow, suddenly considered other options. Bonnie seemed oblivious as to why they were staring at her. 

“We wiped them all out. I’m sure.” Phoenix said. 

“So am I.” Queenie said quietly. “Somehow we must have missed one. They must have thought us vulnerable.” 

“I knew getting the Sons involved was a bad idea.” Black Widow shook her head. “It made us look like we need men to protect us.”

“Maybe we do.” Phoenix snarled. “We had no chance of defeating them without the Sons.”

“We haven’t defeated them  _ with  _ the Sons.” Black Widow looked to Queenie. Queenie knew she was undermining Queenie’s Presidency. 

“You got something to say Widow?” Queenie’s eyes burned into Black Widow coldly. “Why don’t you say it to my face?”

There was a long silence and eventually Black Widow looked away from Queenie. Now wasn’t the time to confront her, clearly. Queenie sniffed angrily and looked to Bonnie. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be in tonight?” Queenie asked. “Didn’t I ask you to come in late and fill the bar?”

“Yes, well…” Bonnie spluttered. “I had a date.”

“And a man is more important than your sisters?” Queenie’s eyes were cold as they met Bonnie’s. 

“No.” Bonnie said quickly. 

“If she had been here Q, she might have died.” Phoenix interrupted quietly.

“She might have seen something.” Queenie didn’t look away from Bonnie. She wasn’t normally hard on the Prospect, that was Blue’s job, but something about the snarl of her lip scared Bonnie now. 

“I did come down.” Bonnie said quickly. “But it was all quiet and so I figured I’d come back real early and fill the bar then.” 

“So you were here?” Blue asked accusingly.

“For the smallest time.” Bonnie stammered. “Then I went to pick something up before my date.” She swallowed, her eyes wide.

“Pick what up?” Blue narrowed her eyes.

“I…” Bonnie started. It was clear she was talking about drugs. 

“We gotta talk patched. Wait outside.” Queenie ordered. 

Bonnie made to argue, to plead her case, but a look from each of them made her nod and scurry out. Queenie thought long and hard before turning to Blue. 

“Why d’you think we got a rat?” 

“A rat?!” Phoenix gasped. It was the first she had heard of it.

There was stark silence around the table. Blue watched Black Widow carefully. She, unlike Phoenix, did not seem phased by this news. It was suspicious to say the least. Blue glared at Black Widow before turning to Queenie. 

“Many reasons.” Blue replied. “Information being leaked to Veneno. Jane Constanza’s death. I knew her, Q. She wouldn’t betray me like that.” 

“But she did.” Black Widow argued. “Maybe you don’t know people as well as you think.” 

“Do I know you?!” Blue asked flatly. Black Widow did not reply. There was a long silence before Black Widow looked to Queenie. 

“If there is a rat, Q, I believe it might be the prospect.” Black Widow spoke slowly, a manipulative tone to her voice. 

“Why’s that?” Queenie raised an eyebrow. 

“She’s a people pleaser. If anyone sold us out to Veneno it’ll be her. She’s gullible. Too weak to be a Siren. You heard her tonight. She all but admitted she’s on drugs. She’s not Siren material.” Queenie and Blue exchanged the smallest of glances. “She betrayed us. I assure you. I would bet my life on it. She said she was here tonight.” Black Widow spoke slowly again. 

Queenie considered her words. She didn’t know what to think. 

“Think about the time you were spiked, Queenie.” Black Widow continued. “Bonnie had a hand in your drink. Mark my words. She’s in with Veneno.” 

Queenie’s eyes widened. If she hadn’t been wholly convinced before, she was now. 

Blue was watching Black Widow carefully. Queenie didn’t seem to suspect her as Blue did. Blue wasn’t fooled. 

“Alright.” Queenie said. “I’ll tail Bonnie. The rest of you go home. We’ll assess all the damage in daylight.” Queenie got to her feet, signalling the meeting was over. “Phoenix, thank Willy.” 

“Will do.” Phoenix seemed shaken by the prospect of a rat. 

“Keep your eyes open, ladies.” Queenie said. “You never know who you can trust.” 

“Stay safe.” Black Widow said curtly, leaving before the rest of them. She gave Bonnie a glare on the way passed and told her to go home. Phoenix followed to speak with Chief Wilson. 

Queenie and Blue exchanged awkward looks before Blue got to her feet and left without a word. Queenie stayed where she was for a moment, considering the weight of everything. A rat in Sirens MC. It would never have happened under Lady’s Presidency. Queenie really was unraveling. 

Queenie got to her feet and headed out to tail Bonnie as promised. She waited for Bonnie to pull off before following, bidding Black Widow and Blue goodnight on the way past. They were both still in the parking lot. Queenie set her face as she pulled away after Bonnie. She would deal with the rat and prove to everyone, Lady included, she had what it took to be a leader. 

Blue waited until Queenie was out of sight before turning to Black Widow. 

“You really think it’s Bonnie?” Blue asked as Black Widow mounted her bike and spurred it into life. 

“Who else would it be?” Black Widow said sharply before pulling away. Blue watched her go with a cocked eyebrow.  _ Who indeed.  _

Blue followed Black Widow into the darkness, keeping her distance but nevertheless on her tail. Queenie had her own rat to chase. Blue would take this one.   
  


Queenie followed Bonnie on her jaunt through town. Despite it being the middle of the night Bonnie had quite the life. She stopped at the diner for fries, then the gas station to refill before finally heading back to her one storey house. She only turned on one light as she went inside and Queenie assumed it was her bedroom as the light was dim, like a lamp. Queenie turned off her bike where she had parked it in the shadows and left her helmet on the seat. She crept across the road in the streetlight and sat beneath the window. She craned her ears to listen through the crack in the window. The light snapped off and threw Queenie into darkness. Bonnie was singing to herself, but there was no sound of her talking to anyone. Queenie rested her back against the wall and settled in for a long night. At least this way she didn’t have to go home and deal with her own problems. 

Blue pulled up outside Black Widow’s house, her headlights off, on the other side of town. It was a big Empire build with enormous windows out the front. Widow had bought it with money from her last dead husband, no doubt. Blue switched off her bike and lurked in the shadows. She daren’t light a cigarette in case Widow saw the light. Her drapes were open out the front and Blue could see directly into her bedroom. Blue wondered if Widow liked the idea of showing off her aging body to potential Peeping Toms. It was a very quiet neighbourhood and silent at this time of night. All the houses except Widow’s had high walls or fences as though keeping themselves to themselves. Blue settled in on her bike to watch Widow. Queenie may have bought the lies about Bonnie but Blue knew better. After everything that had happened the only linking factor was Widow. It was obvious now she thought of it. Widow had been there when Queenie had been spiked. Widow had been the one to bring them Jane’s finger. Widow had been whispering in Queenie’s ear all along, poisoning her mind and telling her she wasn’t good enough. Blue felt a stab of guilt as she realised she, too, had reinforced that in Queenie’s mind. She hoped Queenie wouldn’t do anything reckless to try and prove herself. 

Blue thought back to the argument she and Queenie had had. They had not fought like that in so long. Tensions ran high right now, what with the Sons on the scene and the Veneno fight. It was hardly surprising. Blue hoped Queenie knew how much she meant to her. She may have called Blue out on her biggest insecurity and Blue knew she should hate her for it, but she could never hate Queenie. They fought but, as Lady had said, that was what sisters did.

Blue was pulled from her thoughts by Black Widow appearing in her bedroom window at the front of the house. Blue watched carefully as Black Widow went about her routine in the dim light of the lamp. Nothing untoward. She was alone, and she wasn’t talking on the phone with anyone. Nothing to signify…

Blue stopped dead. Black Widow had removed her kutte and her top, revealing her aging skin in her underwear. There on her side, tattooed big enough for Blue to see, was the viper of Veneno. 

Blue knew it. Black Widow was the traitor. Black Widow was the rat. 

Blue thought about whether she should call Queenie. Then she remembered their fight. She would simply think she was undermining her order. No. Blue would handle this alone. She had executed plenty of rats in her time. She was very good at pest control. 

Blue left her bike in the shadows and tiptoed across the street to Black Widow’s house, careful to stay in darkness and out of view of the big front window. Widow still had her back to the window, thank God. Blue crept around the back of the house and, praying Widow wouldn’t hear, jimmied open the kitchen window. Blue clambered inside silently, climbed down from the counter and pulled her gun from inside her belt. She crept into the kitchen and to the hall. She didn’t know the house very well, having only been here once or twice for various funerals, but she knew it enough to know where Widow’s bedroom was. Blue sneaked up the stairs to the hall, her gun held up, and approached the door with the light. It would be quick and painless. She wouldn’t even give her time to talk. 

Blue kicked open the bedroom door and cocked her gun to fire… but the bedroom was empty. 

Then everything went black as Blue felt something hard and heavy hit her in the back of her head. 


	24. Season 1, Episode 8: A Sign of the Times (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie and Blue take out the pest problem. Queenie lets Juice in. Everything seems happy and finished but then... another threat emerges when Queenie just disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the Chapter: A Sign of the Times by Harry Styles

Queenie was woken suddenly by a buzzing in her pocket. She blinked in the darkness around her and realised she was still sitting outside Bonnie’s house. She must have dozed off. She fished out her cell and answered it just to shut it up. Everything was quiet in the house and the street. 

“Hello?” She whispered. 

“Queenie, it’s… it’s Juice.” 

Queenie frowned and got to her feet, her back and neck stiff and her ass numb. She glanced back at Bonnie’s house and walked back across the street to her bike so that she could talk with a little more volume.

“What do you want Juice?” Queenie asked curtly. It was approaching 4am and Queenie yawned to prove it.

“I heard about the fire at the clubhouse.” Juice said. 

“How?” Queenie scowled further, “It’s only just happened.”

“Police radio scanner.” Juice said. “I still had it tuned in to Corona from, well, before.” Juice swallowed and Queenie knew he was doing that adorable semi-smile that he did when he wasn’t sure what to say. Queenie cleared her throat to stop her own smile spreading. “Are you all okay?”

“No one was inside.” Queenie replied. 

“Thank God.” Juice breathed out. 

“Why are you up? It’s 4am.” Queenie remarked. She was, nonetheless, relieved he had called. He had a way of making her feel calm. 

“I don’t really sleep.” Juice replied. 

“Do I wanna know?” Queenie swallowed. She had meant it as a joke, insinuating he was busy with women, but then she remembered how he had found her with Tig and she felt guilty. 

“I’m just a psycho.” Juice laughed, clearly determined to be unphased if he was thinking the same thing as Queenie. “Why are you whispering?”

Queenie bit her lip. She didn’t know if she should tell him the truth or not. She felt like he would be able to help her make sense of it all, but it would also be betraying club secrets. She nibbled the skin of her lip as she thought. 

“Juice.” She said. “I think I have a vermin problem in Sirens.” She prayed he’d know what she meant. 

“A rat?” He said in a whisper as though it were a bad word. 

“Blue seems to think so.” Queenie felt a stab of guilt again as she remembered her and Blue’s fight. “We’ve been betrayed to Veneno so many times. It’s Veneno that set fire to the bar.” Queenie couldn’t stop herself telling him everything. 

“Veneno?” Juice sounded surprised. “Didn’t we kill them all?”

“Clearly there was one left.” Queenie swallowed. A sudden thought dawned on her. “Either that or my rat did it to make it look like...” She trailed off as a lightbulb flickered above her head. 

“Who?” Juice asked, having the same thought. “Who do you think it is?”

“I’m outside Bonnie’s house right now.” Queenie whispered. 

“The prospect?” Juice asked. “No offence, Q, but she doesn’t seem smart enough.”

“She’s the only lead I got.” Queenie said, though she admitted she had to agree with him. She didn’t think Bonnie was capable either. The more she thought about it the more it seemed absurd. 

“Who does Blue think it is?” Juice asked. “She seems switched on.”

“I… I don’t know.” Queenie admitted. “We had a fight.” 

“Fist or words?” Juice asked with a smirk in his voice. 

“Nearly both.” Queenie smiled a little. It wasn’t funny but he had a way of making it seem so. 

“What could come between you two?” Juice said reverently. 

“Well…” Queenie hesitated. It was 4am and yet she felt the urge to tell him the truth. She bit the bullet. “You, actually.”

“Me?” Juice wasn’t joking now. His voice was serious. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter.” Queenie kicked a pebble into the road. “I have bigger problems.” 

“Right. Your rat.” Juice said with a small clearing of his throat. “No offence, I’m sure she’s lovely, but I never got good vibes from Widow.” 

“Black Widow?” Queenie frowned. “She’s…” 

It all clicked into place. Black Widow had always had it out for Queenie. She had wanted Lady’s position when Lady passed away, she felt she earned it. She had been there when Queenie had been spiked. She had been there for every ambush they had ever had. She had been there when Queenie had arrived last night. 

“Juice.” Queenie breathed. “I could kiss you.” 

“Well…” Juice started, but Queenie interrupted. 

“I have to go.” Queenie hung up the phone and climbed onto her bike. She was still stiff from falling asleep on the cold ground but this couldn’t wait until she recovered. She pulled on her helmet and sped away in the direction of Black Widow’s house. 

Blue came to groggily. She blinked in the sudden bright light of the lamp in front of her, it had been so dark and cosy in her mind whilst she had been unconscious. How had she become unconscious? She made to brush her hair out of her face but found she couldn’t move her hands. She looked down. Her wrists were bound to an ornate chair. She made to move her feet. They wouldn’t move either. She was entirely tied to the chair like some helpless damsel in a spy movie. She whipped her hair out of her face and looked around to see Black Widow, dressed in a black dress, filling a syringe from what looked like a perfume bottle. 

“I knew it was you.” Blue spat. “You filthy rat.” 

“Now now,” Black Widow said with a smirk, “Don’t insult the one of us who has access to an exit.” 

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? Your little villain moment. How long have you been in bed with Veneno?”

“Since I killed my first husband.” Black Widow said as though it was obvious. Blue felt sick. 

“All this time?” Blue asked. “You’ve been betraying the Sirens all this time?!” 

“Not all this time.” Black Widow put down the bottle and approached Blue with the syringe. “Just since Queenie became President.” 

“You really do hate her.” Blue shook her head. She watched as Widow approached her with the syringe and tried to pull away. She was bound and couldn’t move as she watched Widow put the needle into her arm and empty the liquid. “What is that?!”

“Fuego’s memory.” Black Widow said with a light pat to Blue’s arm once she removed the needle again. 

“You’re poisoning me?” Blue asked. Her vision suddenly swam and she really did feel she was going to throw up. She looked at her elbow. There were several needle marks. How long had she been out? “How many have you given me?” 

“How can you tell?” Black Widow raised an eyebrow as she perched on the edge of her bed. “You’ve enough needle marks in your arm to warrant life in jail.” 

“What have you given me?” Blue forced herself to focus but already she just wanted to sleep. 

“I told you.” Black Widow patted her hair. “A gift from Fuego, god rest his soul. He was the only man I ever really loved, you know.”

“You really were in bed with Veneno.” Blue spat as she struggled. She just wanted to sleep. 

“I’ve always loved poison. Ever since I was a little girl. I read about this woman in some old time that literally made a living selling poison to women who wanted out of their marriages. It was odourless, flavourless, colourless and looked just like perfume. Perfect, I thought, so I worked on making my own. The best part? The antidote was simply vinegar and lemon juice.” She gestured at another perfume bottle beside her poisonous one. “Once it worked on my first husband I went into business with Fuego. The fact that meant I could teach Queenie a lesson was a bonus.”

“Why do you hate her so much?” Blue asked. She could taste blood. How much had Widow given her?!

“Because she’s everything I should have been.” Widow said bitterly.

“Are you really telling me you hate her because you’re jealous? Are you a child?!” Blue snarled.

“I hate her because she’s an arrogant bitch.” Black Widow snarled. “You both are. So when I saw you lurking outside and then heard you break in I thought it would be perfect. I knew you had worked out I was the rat, that it was me who set fire to the clubhouse in Veneno’s name and spiked Queenie’s drink and killed your friend Jane. I knew you’d worked it out, so I thought I’d have some fun with you.” Widow started filling her needle again. Blue struggled. She knew, somehow, that one more dose would be lethal. She had limited time. “When Queenie eventually finds you she’ll think you were the rat. I’ll leave evidence to point to that, and she’ll think Veneno broke in to make an example of you and kidnapped me. Queenie will be so heartbroken she’ll end up probably killing herself.” Widow smirked. 

“You stone cold bitch.” Was all Blue’s tired mind could manage. She was barely hanging on. 

“It’s the perfect crime.” Widow got to her feet to approach Blue, the final dose in her needle. Blue struggled against the bonds but it was no use. She felt the needle pierce her skin once more and knew her time was up…

“There’s just one problem,” Came a familiar voice from the hall. The door burst open and Queenie entered with her gun raised. She didn’t wait for Widow to retaliate or for anyone to speak. Queenie fired two rounds into Widow’s chest, sending her flying back onto the bed with blood seeping out around her. “You’ve never done anything perfectly, you spidery bitch.” Queenie spat at Black Widow’s body and turned to Blue. “I’m so sorry.”

“Apologise later.” Blue said weakly. “Antidote now.” She nodded at the perfume bottles. “The yellow one.” 

Queenie dropped her gun on the bed beside Widow’s body and rummaged around the dressing table for a clean syringe, ripping it open and taking a long drag of the yellow bottle. She approached Blue and looked at her apologetically. “This is probably going to hurt.” 

“I’ve had worse.” Blue shrugged. Queenie smiled at her and stuck the antidote into her arm. Blue cried out in pain as the liquid coursed through her veins. Beside the agony, she was already beginning to feel better. Queenie set about releasing her bonds with her pen-knife as Blue tried to regain her senses. “Does this mean you carry me off into the sunset now?” Blue managed to chuckle as Queenie finished untying her. 

“I’ll settle for a drink down Cherry Pie.” Queenie hugged Blue. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m so sorry too.” Blue hugged Queenie back, still sore in her very bloodstream. They stayed like that for a moment. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Me neither.” Queenie promised. “I should have listened to your suspicions of Black Widow all along. Bonnie would never rat us out. It had to have been Widow. She…” 

There was a sudden kerfuffle as Black Widow heaved herself up, not yet dead, and pointed Queenie’s gun at its owner. There was a gunshot and Queenie looked down at herself, half expecting to be dying. Instead, Black Widow slumped back onto the bed once more, the gun sliding from her hand, and a single bullet wound in her forehead. Queenie snatched up her own gun and turned around to see Bonnie in the doorway.

“Next time I say I’m not a rat,” Bonnie said, “Believe me.” 

“You got it.” Blue said in a shaky voice as Queenie lowered her gun and flopped onto the bed beside Widow’s now definitely dead corpse. 

For a moment they all three stayed where they were in silence. Then, nervously, Queenie let out a shaky laugh. Blue joined in, followed by Bonnie. They were exhausted, they were betrayed, but they had survived. 

“Let’s not get so distracted again?” Blue said with a slight nudge of Queenie’s leg.

“Sirens all the way.” Queenie said with a nod. 

However they both felt the urge to eat their words as they pulled up to the clubhouse at the break of dawn, Blue and Queenie. Bonnie had headed home again for some well earned rest. Queenie had told Blue to go home too and rest but Blue refused to leave Queenie alone. They both wanted to check the damage on the clubhouse. As they pulled up, there were two familiar bikes parked outside. 

“We were wondering when you two would show up.” Jax stepped off of the bench and threw his cigarette on the ground, stamping it out. “You both look like shit.” 

Beside him Juice followed suit with a sheepish smile to Queenie. Queenie returned it in spite of herself. 

“It’s been a bit of a shit night.” Queenie said. She wasn’t going to question why they were here. She knew Juice had told Jax, and honestly she was touched. “Drink?”

“Many.” Blue replied. She walked past Queenie to open the door to the clubhouse, Jax following her and instantly deep in conversation. 

Queenie stood nervously in the parking lot opposite Juice. She felt herself tremble nervously. 

“Is it alright?” Juice asked eventually. “That we came?”

“It’s not like I could stop you if I didn’t know.” Queenie said curtly. She swallowed and smiled at him genuinely. “Thank you.” 

Juice smiled back at her. There was a pause, and then he gently reached up to touch the blood splatter on her cheek. 

“You deal with the pest problem?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” Queenie nodded. “It was a spider infestation.” 

There was another pause as Juice nodded knowingly. 

“Do you, er,” She cleared her throat, “Eat breakfast?” 

“I do.” Juice smirked kindly at her. She giggled nervously and instantly hated herself for it. She felt like a schoolgirl. There was another pause. “I eat dinner too.” Juice said, swallowing hard. “You know any good places that you can show me?” 

Queenie met his eye. Her heart was hammering and she felt sick with fear. SHe wanted to shake her head, to say no, to insult him… but he seemed to realise this. 

“It’s okay, Q.” He said. “I like difficult.” 

Queenie smiled at him and let out a small sigh of relief. She nodded. “Good,” She said, biting her lip, “because difficult is what you’re getting.” She walked past him and he followed with a grin. “9.30?” She suddenly turned to him in the doorway. They were standing quite close and she let out a small gasp as she met his eye. “There’s a… an italian restaurant on main street. They, erm, owe me.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Juice smiled at her. It would be so easy for him to lean forward and kiss her… Queenie turned back around and headed into the bar. Jax and Blue were squashed in a booth doing just that. They broke apart as Queenie and Juice entered but Queenie waved her hand to dismiss their caution. 

“She damn near just died,” Queenie said, “You can fuck on that table for all I care.” She grinned at Juice, her eyes sparkling. She hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. 

Queenie picked Black Widow’s photo off the wall and put it into the box with the rest of the stuff to go in the trash. It was the least the bitch deserved. She should count herself lucky that they hadn’t burned everything she had ever owned after what she had done. It had taken Queenie hours to wash off the blood but now she was clean. There was no trace of it on her pale, tattooed arms in her best dress. 

Queenie turned off the lights in Atlantis as she prepared to head out. Her chest was filled with mixed emotions at the thought of committing to one person. It was a date, nothing more, and she didn’t have to decide anything right now. She thought about her track record and wondered if she could trust herself to be loyal. After what had gone down with Black Widow and Veneno she owed it to herself to be honest. She shrugged off her kutte and left it on the dark bar top, replacing it with her plain black leather jacket. She felt oddly naked and vulnerable without her kutte but knew this wasn’t about the club. It was personal, something just for her. She picked up her keys and exited Cherry Pie. This was a good thing. She was reminding herself that she was, in fact, human. 

Across town, in the agreed restaurant, Juice waited patiently for Queenie to show. They had agreed nine thirty. It was nine now, so he was early. He was sitting at the bar and anxiously sipping his beer, not wanting to get too drunk before she showed. He didn’t know why she was so nervous. They had been flirting for some time now. Even after what had gone down with Tig he felt that they had something strong enough to last. He had left his kutte behind. This wasn’t a club thing, it was a personal thing. He had fancied Queenie since he had first laid eyes on her. He was sure that they had a connection. Now was his chance to prove to her that he was more than just the tech-guy. The clock above the bar ticked on, heading towards the time Juice would prove himself worthy of the Queen. 

In the apartment bedroom behind Cherry Pie Blue laid with her head on Jax’s lap as they shared a cigarette. He brushed her hair out of her face and ran his fingers through it. She closed her eyes, glad to have him close. Both of their combined kuttes laid on the floor beyond the bed, the siren and the reaper. Jax smiled as he looked down at her, glad that they could make a go of things. Blue stroked his cheek and silently thanked him for being there to ground her. After everything that had happened with Black Widow and Veneno she was glad to have him close. 

Queenie parked up her bike just down the block and round the corner from the agreed restaurant. She dismounted and adjusted her skirt, waiting for a car with blacked out windows to drive passed her so she could cross the street. She did so, her head filled with nerves. Why was she so nervous? She was a badass bitch… who hadn’t been on a date in years. What if Juice didn’t like her for who she really was?

Juice looked up at the clock. 9.40. She was late. He took a deep breath, trying not to worry about her standing him up. She would call, surely?  _ Would she?  _ Did he know her  _ that  _ well?

Blue leaned up to kiss Jax on the lips. He responded in kind, holding her head as she did. Neither of them were ready to make love, but they were growing closer. 

Queenie drew her jacket tighter around herself as she rounded the corner. She could see the restaurant up ahead. She found herself smiling as she walked towards it. What would she say to him? Her eyes fell on the car just to the side of her on the sidewalk. It had blacked out windows, the one that had driven past her… why was the back door opening? Queenie made to scream and fight as three men climbed out of the car and grabbed her, their hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. She punched and kicked out but they held her firm. A fourth man opened the trunk and pushed her inside, slamming it on top of her and driving away. The movements were precise and executed. They had done this before. 

Juice frowned at the clock. 9.50. He checked his cell. Nothing. 

Blue straddled Jax as they made out on the bed. They were both still fully dressed but it was comforting to get familiar with each others bodies, the way they both moved. 

Queenie kicked and screamed from inside the trunk. Nobody could hear her. She lay in the darkness as the car drove far away, her eyes filled with tears. 

Juice looked at the clock again. 10.15. She had stood him up. He dialled her number on his cell. 

Queenie’s cell rang in the pocket of her kutte on the bar at Cherry Pie. Once, twice, three times before the caller hung up. 

Juice closed his phone and slid off the stool. He finished his drink and, with a smile to the bartender, pulled on his jacket and left the restaurant. He knew it was too good to be true. He walked down the block and around the corner. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Queenie’s bike parked up at the side of the street. 

The blacked out car drew up outside a warehouse. The four men got out, and one opened the shotgun door. A tall man with dark, slicked hair and a pinstripe suit stepped out. He adjusted his collar and crossed to the back of the car where his men were lifting the fighting Queenie out of the trunk. One had once again put a hand over her mouth as the others held her back. The man shook his head at her. 

“Aurora.” He said in a thick Queens accent, “It’s been a while.” 

The last thing Queenie saw before she was knocked unconscious was the man smirking as he clicked his fingers, a black ace tattooed on the back of his hand. 

Then it all went black. 


End file.
